


when i'm with you, i bloom

by lyricistjihoon



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Jihoon centric, M/M, No Plot Just Feelings, Side Ships, Slow Burn, Soft feelings, hair drying as a form of intimacy, leader line bffs, minor misunderstanding, no one is straight because i'm not straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 65,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricistjihoon/pseuds/lyricistjihoon
Summary: Seokmin, who is probably the easiest person in the world to fall in love with, and Jihoon, who fell as easily and as softly as the leaves fall away from the tree in autumn.
Relationships: Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 21
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

_“Pity me that the heart is slow to learn_ _  
__What the swift mind beholds at every turn.”_

-Edna St. Vincent Millay, Sonnet 29.  
  
  
  
  
  


  
Jihoon regrets coming to this party almost as soon as he walks in.  
  
It makes sense that now that Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua live together they would start hosting bigger parties, because they have a bigger place now and more friends between the three of them, but Jihoon didn’t expect the amount of people crowded into their living room and filtering in and out of the open kitchen. There’s enough people here, crowded in small circles and standing together while they chat, some he recognizes and some he doesn’t, that Jihoon actually feels like he has to search through the house to find one of his friends.  
  
He spotted Soonyoung a few minutes after getting here, at least, but he was caged against a wall by Wonwoo, the two of them seemingly unaware of the fact that maybe everyone else didn’t want to watch them making out. Jihoon turned around as fast as he had found them, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.  
  
This probably wouldn’t have been a problem if he had gotten here earlier, before so many people arrived and made it impossible to move through the living room, but Jihoon got stuck at the studio and couldn’t get here until now. He’s starting to think it might be a better idea to call Seungcheol and ask him where he is when he hears his name over the music and the sound of chatter.  
  
He finds Seungcheol’s face near the glass sliding doors that lead to the patio, and he sighs in relief as he makes his way to him, walking around groups of people, trying not to shove anyone.  
  
When he reaches Seungcheol, he realizes Jeonghan and Joshua are standing with him as well, and he greets all three of them before he steps forward to give Jeonghan a quick hug.  
  
“Happy birthday, hyung,” Jihoon says. Jeonghan is grinning when they pull apart, gentle and bright.  
  
“Thank you,” Jeonghan says with a nod, “and thanks for coming, I’m glad you made it.”  
  
Jihoon nods and shuffles back to stand at Seungcheol’s other side. He says, “Sorry I’m late, work ran over a little. Where’s everyone else?”  
  
Seungcheol raises his head to scan the room before he starts pointing people out. “Mingyu and Myungho are in the kitchen playing drinking games, and I think Jun is still in there with them.”  
  
“Really think about it before you go in there,” Joshua tells him, “they’ve got everyone riled up and tipsier than usual.”  
  
Jihoon shakes his head, making a face. Mingyu and Minghao have an unexpected knack for drinking games, but the bad part is that they get everyone else around them worked up and competitive too. They don’t lose, so they never take a shot, and they take advantage of the drunk party people who think they have any chance of beating the two of them.  
  
“Hey, I actually haven’t seen Soonyoung for a while,” Seungcheol says thoughtfully, looking around the room with more purpose now.  
  
“He’s sucking face with Wonwoo by the front door,” Jihoon tells him, tone dead and flat.  
  
“That’s a nice way to greet people,” Jeonghan laughs, “let them know exactly what kind of party they’re walking into.”  
  
“If that’s the kind of party we’re having, I’m going home,” Jihoon says.  
  
“Seungkwanie’s catching up with some of the girls by the couch, and I think Hansol’s hanging around him with Chan,” Joshua tells him, pointing his red cup in the direction of the couch, and Jihoon peers between people’s heads to see Seungkwan gesturing wildly at Haseul, Jungeun, and Jiwoo, whom Jihoon knows from other parties and has briefly met as some of Jeonghan’s friends, while Hansol sits beside him on the arm of the couch, laughing at something Chan said.  
  
“There’s a lot more people here than usual, aren’t there?” Jihoon asks after they point out most of the people he actually knows.  
  
“Hannie wanted a big party this year,” Joshua tells him with a fond smile. Jeonghan grins and opens his mouth to say something, but Seungcheol touches his arm and interrupts him.  
  
“Isn’t that Seokmin?” Seungcheol asks as Jeonghan looks at him, then over in the direction Seungcheol gestures, Joshua and Jihoon turning to look as well.  
  
There’s too many people for Jihoon to figure out who Seungcheol is talking about, but behind him, Jeonghan calls, “Seokminie, here!” and Jihoon finds someone looking directly at the four of them, a bright grin forming on his face and lighting up his eyes as he shoves his way towards them.  
  
“Hannie-hyung,” he says as he reaches them, taking Jeonghan’s arm and pulling him in for a brief hug, quietly wishing him a happy birthday before he turns his sunshine grin on Seungcheol and Joshua as well.  
  
Jihoon watches the way they greet and talk to each other familiarly, but he quietly waits until someone introduces him or addresses him, because he doesn’t know Seokmin at all. It’s worth noting, because as far as Jihoon is concerned, all of Seungcheol’s close friends are Jihoon’s close friends as well. He’s never met Seokmin before though, hasn’t even seen him at any of their previous parties. He doesn’t have a face Jihoon would forget either, which Jihoon would only admit to himself.  
  
“Seokminie, this is Jihoon,” Jeonghan says and Jihoon tries not to look like he was waiting for the introduction. “Jihoonie, this is Seokmin, he’s a friend of mine.”  
  
“Hi,” Seokmin says brightly, eyes wide and kind. “It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he greets him politely, which surprises Jihoon as he fumbles forward to shake Seokmin’s hand as they bow. He doesn’t make it in time to support his arm, but Seokmin doesn’t seem to mind.  
  
“You too,” Jihoon tries, remembering to speak over the music. He never lets on, but meeting new people makes him a little nervous sometimes. He never quite knows where to look or keep his hands, what to do with his face. A lot of the time, he just ends up looking pretty bored and neutral.  
  
Seungcheol leans down close to his ears and says, “Seokminie has already met most of the guys, except for you and Soonyoung,” and Jihoon recognizes it for the cue it is. It means, _Be nice, because he’ll be hanging out with us from now on_ . It means, _Put in a little extra effort, because you’ll probably be seeing a lot of him from now on._  
  
“How do you know Jeonghan-hyung?” Jihoon asks Seokmin. That’s the sort of thing people ask when meeting their friends’ friends, right?  
  
“I did hair and make up for Seokminie at a show,” Jeonghan cuts in, smiling brightly at Seokmin.  
  
“I do theatre,” Seokmin supplies at Jihoon’s blank stare, “mostly musicals.”  
  
“You sing?” Jihoon asks, pleasantly surprised. Seokmin’s smile widens, which Jihoon didn’t think would be possible, and he tilts his head to the side and nods.  
  
“A little, I guess,” Seokmin says with a shrug. “You’re Cheoli-hyung’s friend, right?”  
  
It’s the way they used to refer to each other in the beginning, back when Seungcheol started dating Joshua, and Joshua’s boyfriend Jeonghan, and started meeting each other’s friends, and the friends started meeting each other. It was how they kept track of everyone in the beginning, _Seungcheol’s friends Jihoon and Soonyoung_ and _Joshua’s friends Vernon and Chan_ and _Jeonghan’s friends Mingyu and Wonwoo_ . They probably talked like that when telling Seokmin about everyone in their group, which Jihoon understands, because they’re a big group of friends.  
  
“Yeah, Jihoonie and I have known each other since high school,” Seungcheol tells Seokmin and Jihoon gives him a look, wondering why he’s being spoken for.  
  
Before Jihoon can say anything, he’s cut off by someone jumping against his back and hugging him from behind. Jihoon’s body jerks forward and he bristles like a cat, ready to tear someone a new one before he hastily glances behind him and rolls his eyes, realizing it’s only Soonyoung.  
  
“Hoonie,” Soonyoung shouts next to his ear, nuzzling his face against Jihoon’s cheek. “How come you didn’t come say hi to me?”  
  
“You were busy,” Jihoon says while he tries to pry Soonyoung’s arms from him, not looking at him anymore. “I’m surprised you can talk at all with Wonwoo’s tongue lodged in your throat.”  
  
“Me?” Soonyoung gasps loudly. “Making out with a boy? In this Christian household? Wrong girl, sir, not me.”  
  
“He’s a little drunk,” Wonwoo tells them as he comes to join them in the little circle they’ve made. “Mingyu convinced him to keep playing rounds in the kitchen earlier.”  
  
“First of all,” Jeonghan starts to say immediately after Wonwoo, “Shua’s Catholic, Soonyoung. Second of all, and more importantly, Seungcheol and I have worked hard to help him not care about the Catholic guilt, why would you bring that up?”  
  
“We’ve decided we only respect pagan gods in this house now,” Joshua adds in even as he’s watching Jihoon try to free himself from Soonyoung’s drunk hold with amusement in his eyes, not helping at all.  
  
“Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says as he puts a hand on his arm and helps pry him off Jihoon, “have you met Seokmin? You should meet Seokmin.”  
  
Jihoon shakes himself off when he finally comes free of Soonyoung, and watches as Soonyoung gasps in Seokmin’s direction and goes right in for a hug. Seokmin’s eyes widen in surprise, but he laughs brightly and returns Soonyoung’s embrace easily.  
  
Jihoon can’t help the annoyed look he makes at Soonyoung, still ruffled from being surprised from behind. Jihoon loves Soonyoung, but he’s the absolute worst at parties after he starts drinking. It won’t be long before he starts dancing on top of furniture, probably.  
  
“Hey, do you two want something to drink?” Jeonghan, ever the good host, says as he looks between Jihoon and Seokmin, realizing their hands are empty since they both just got there, “I’ll go get you guys some drinks.”  
  
“It’s fine, I’ll get them,” Seungcheol hurries before Jeonghan tries to leave, and at his questioning look, Seungcheol shakes his head, “birthday boy doesn’t play host on his birthday, I’ll get them. Be right back, okay?”  
  
Seokmin nods and quietly thanks Seungcheol before Soonyoung begs his attention again, and Jihoon takes a moment to look at him properly.  
  
He’s actually ridiculously handsome, enough to make Jihoon a little upset about it. He’s handsome in the way that makes him think old ladies and nice grandmothers must dote on him, handsome in the charming way, like you could find Seokmin doing some good deed and think _Yeah, it makes sense he looks like that_ . His smile is kind of contagious, bright and dripping sweetness, and the way his eyes curve with it is cute. Jihoon doesn’t think he’s taller than Mingyu, or even Jun and Wonwoo, but he’s got long legs that seem to go on and on forever and make him _seem_ taller.  
  
Jihoon hastily looks away when he feels someone bump into his shoulder and turns his head to meet Jeonghan’s eyes, an insinuating smile on his lips.  
  
“Hyung,” Jihoon says quickly and quietly enough that it’s only between the two of them, “could you let _one_ thing slide, just once, please?”  
  
It makes Jeonghan laugh, his low, smooth laugh that sort of gives away he isn’t as angelic as he looks on first impression, but that is still so nice and charming.  
  
Before he can say anything to Jihoon, Seungcheol arrives with drinks for Jihoon and Seokmin and deters the conversation.  
  
“Fair warning,” Seungcheol tells the group, “Matthew has found out drinking games were being played in the kitchen, so like. If you hear more shouting coming from there, don’t freak out, but also I’m a little worried for our kitchen.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Jihoon and Wonwoo say in unison, their voices colored with the same amused, yet dreadful tone.  
  
“Who’s Matthew?” Seokmin asks innocently and Jihoon shakes his head as Soonyoung cackles from where he’s standing between Seokmin and Wonwoo.  
  
“That one’s mine,” Joshua clarifies for Seokmin which group he came from, “he’s super nice and super friendly.”  
  
“But he’s also, like, super loud and dumb,” Wonwoo adds.  
  
“He’s not as bad if Jackson isn’t around,” Soonyoung says, probably trying to be helpful, but the mention of Jackson’s name makes Jihoon visibly shudder. He catches Seokmin laugh when he sees him, and it’s cute, too, the way he presses his lips together and knits his eyebrows like he’s trying to not to laugh before he grins, shoulders shaking with mirth. Jihoon only kind of wishes he could hear the sound of his laugh over the music.  
  
As if on cue, they all hear an excited shout come from the kitchen, followed by a similar chorus of drunk party people. A murmur goes through the rest of the living room as people look to see what’s going on, the sound of laughter laced in between.  
  
All in all, it’s actually not a bad party, not as bad as Jihoon was expecting it to be. Soonyoung does start dancing at some point, but it’s more fun than embarrassing. Chan, Junhui, and Minghao join him in something akin to an impressive dance off that has people crowding around them and reacting, goading them on. At some point, Seungcheol and Wonwoo pull out the Wii console and drunk people take turns playing Wii Sports Resort, which is a little more entertaining than Jihoon was expecting it to be, especially when Jiwoo accidentally swings too far back with the remote and whacks Taeyong in the face.  
  
By midnight, people start heading home, and a little after that, it’s just the main crew left, staying behind to help clean.  
  
“You guys don’t have to do this, really,” Jeonghan says from where he’s holding a black trash bag that Jihoon is dumping empty red solo cups into.  
  
“It’s fine,” Hansol offers as he wipes down the coffee table in front of the couch. “You guys shouldn’t have to clean up by yourselves today.”  
  
Jihoon can see the way Jeonghan smiles at them, fond and warm. He doesn’t point out that technically, it’s not his birthday anymore, and Jihoon thinks it’s because he knows they probably would have stayed to help, anyway.  
  
“Here, I’ll help with that,” Jihoon hears Seokmin tell Seungkwan when he catches him struggling to lift a box cooler outside. He didn’t talk to Seokmin much more after the initial introduction, but Jihoon thinks just the fact that he stayed behind with everyone else is nice enough and earns him some kind of approval, and he decides he’s okay with him hanging out with them.  
  
“He’s always that nice,” Jeonghan says quietly, and Jihoon realizes he’s talking to him, having caught Jihoon staring once again.  
  
He can hear Seungcheol calling for Mingyu, asking if he needs the dust pan, and Mingyu responding that he knows where it is. Minghao and Junhui are in the kitchen emptying the bottles of alcohol before they toss them in the recycling bin out on the patio, and Chan is helping Wonwoo pick up the trash and cups in the kitchen while Soonyoung carries the black plastic bag.  
  
“Yeah?” Jihoon says casually as he stacks some cups not totally empty at the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room for Minghao and Junhui to empty out. “That’s nice.”  
  
“He doesn’t just sing _a little_ , either,” Jeonghan goes on, referring to the way Seokmin had answered him earlier in the night, “he’s actually kind of amazing.”  
  
“Okay,” Jihoon deadpans, tone flat. When Jeonghan stays quiet for a while, Jihoon lifts his eyes to look at him, only to find Jeonghan smiling knowingly at him again, wiggling his eyebrows. Jihoon gives him an unimpressed look. “What?”  
  
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Jeonghan stage whispers at him, and Jihoon makes a face before he looks away again.  
  
“Hyung, I don’t even know him.”  
  
“Hannie, where’d we put that stuff to clean the kitchen countertops?” Joshua’s voice cuts in before Jeonghan can respond. He’s peeking out from the side of the kitchen entryway, looking between Jeonghan and Jihoon, obviously caught on to their furtive whispering.  
  
“It’s under the kitchen counter,” Jeonghan tells him.  
  
“I checked, it’s not there.”  
  
Jeonghan looks at Jihoon with a sweet smile and shakes his head before he leaves, a gesture that clearly tells Jihoon he got lucky this time.  
  
Between the thirteen of them, it doesn’t take long to clean up, and by one in the morning, the place is mostly spotless.  
  
“We’ll do the floors tomorrow,” Seungcheol says once they start slowing down and running out of things to do, “it’s late, anyway, and I want you guys to start getting home.”  
  
They’re like ducklings, the way they follow Seungcheol’s words and start getting ready to leave. Seungcheol lines up by the front door with Jeonghan and Joshua to see each of them off.  
  
“I think I’m gonna go home with Soonyoung, Mingyu, is that okay?” Jihoon hears Wonwoo tell Mingyu. Soonyoung lives by himself, and he’s not too drunk, but his face is flushed and his eyes look sleepy, so Jihoon understands why Wonwoo might feel better going home with him  
  
It starts up another stir of conversation between everyone else, though, as they all seem to simultaneously realize there aren’t any more trains running this late and start making plans. Minghao, who also lives by himself, asks Mingyu to come home with him instead, leaving his and Wonwoo’s apartment empty for the night. Seungkwan starts calling a cab for him and Hansol, who have been living together since before Jihoon met them, and he can hear Junhui telling Chan he’ll give him a ride home, since he drove there and lives the closest to Chan.  
  
Jihoon listens to them talk as he quietly slips on his outer jacket. Normally, he’d take the subway to Hyehwa Station, which isn’t that far from everyone else, but isn’t on their way, either.  
 **  
**“Seokminie, aren’t you in Daehangno District?”  
  
Jihoon looks up at that, jerks his gaze to where Seokmin is standing by the door, his phone in hand as he looks up at Jeonghan and nods.  
  
“Great,” Jeonghan beams, an angelic grin spreading his lips, “so is Jihoonie, why don’t you two share a cab?”  
  
Jihoon doesn’t know how, but he knows Jeonghan planned this, somehow. He’s been living in his apartment since he graduated college, since before he met Jeonghan, but he knows he somehow made Jihoon pick that place just so he could fuck with him in this very moment, years later. He knows Jeonghan is God’s fucking favorite, he’d never put this past him.  
  
When Jihoon looks at him, Seokmin is smiling politely.  
  
“I already ordered a cab,” he says with a vague wave of his phone, “but I don’t mind sharing it with you, if you want.”  
  
Jihoon doesn’t know how to say _Actually, I’m gonna turn you down because I don’t feel like giving Yoon Jeonghan the satisfaction of winning tonight_ without sounding like a total weirdo, or an asshole, and Jihoon isn’t sure that saying no won’t be a way of letting Jeonghan win as well, letting him know that he got to Jihoon tonight.  
  
Like a big boy, he sucks it up and nods.  
  
“Sure, that’s fine. Thanks,” Jihoon says politely and nods in Seokmin’s direction.  
  
“That makes me feel better, then,” Jeonghan sighs in relief and he pulls it off well, but Jihoon knows better, and instead of looking at him, he looks at Seungcheol, who is already avoiding Jihoon’s eyes, probably aware that one of his boyfriends is trying to pull strings in Jihoon’s life. The next time he comes whining to Jihoon about Jeonghan’s attitude, Jihoon is going to be so goddamn heartless, he’ll make Seungcheol cry.  
  
One by one, they say goodbye to Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Joshua at the door and walk out into the brisk night.  
  
Junhui and Chan leave first, waving over their shoulders as they walk away from everyone, followed by Hansol and Seungkwan, then Seokmin glances at Jihoon a little nervously when a cab starts to pull up in front of them.  
  
Jihoon sticks a hand out of his pocket to wave goodbye at Wonwoo and Soonyoung. “Let me know when you guys get home, alright?” he tells Wonwoo. Soonyoung’s eyes are closed as he rests his head on Wonwoo’s shoulders, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose pink.  
  
“Will do,” Wonwoo says with a small wave of his own, “be safe.”  
  
Jihoon nods one last time before he turns to follow Seokmin, slipping into the cab behind him.  
  
Seokmin greets their driver in a soft, polite voice, which is nice of him, Jihoon thinks, but can’t really bring himself to follow. He’s starting to realize he has to sit in this cab with someone he barely knows for half an hour, and he doesn’t know what to talk about, or if he should talk about anything, and he doesn’t want Seokmin to think he’s a jerk, since apparently they’ll be seeing much more of each other now.  
  
“So, um,” Seokmin says quietly, and Jihoon immediately turns to look at him, bracing himself, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask before, but what do you do?”  
  
Jihoon pauses, staring at Seokmin. He catches the lights from outside their cab flickering across his face and realizes Seokmin is asking about his _job_ just as he notices the tentative look in Seokmin’s eyes. It occurs to Jihoon that Seokmin might be as nervous as he is, and that makes him feel slightly better.  
  
“Oh,” Jihoon says softly, unable to forget their driver is there as well. “Um, I’m a music composer. I make music.”  
  
“Really?” Seokmin asks, his voice colored with an impressed tone.  
  
“Yeah, I mean, kind of. I’m doing an apprenticeship under another composer for now. It doesn’t pay a lot yet though, so I, uh. I play in an orchestra as well,” Jihoon explains.  
  
“That’s so cool,” Seokmin says, but he says it so quietly, just under a whisper, Jihoon isn’t sure he was supposed to hear it. A little louder, he asks, “What do you play?”  
  
“The clarinet.”  
  
“Woah,” Seokmin sighs. “Do you play other instruments, too?” The question sounds like an assumption that he does. Jihoon feels a little seen through.  
  
He nods. “Piano. Guitar and drums,” he shrugs, a little bashful. They slow to a stop at a red light. Seokmin’s face is painted by dim lights and fuzzy shadows that make his features seem longer, sharper and more elegant. His eyes are bright and a little impressed as he looks at Jihoon.  
  
“That’s really cool,” Seokmin says again, clearly this time. “I’ve always wanted to learn an instrument.”  
  
Jihoon stares at Seokmin, unsure of what to say to that. He wonders if most people would say something like _I could teach you_ in a moment like this, but Jihoon can’t hear the words out of his own mouth. It sounds like a lot of work, and he wouldn’t mean it.  
  
“I understand the two job thing,” Seokmin goes on despite Jihoon’s silence, kind and polite. “I work at an animal shelter too, to make up what theatre doesn’t. Orchestra sounds a lot cooler though,” he adds thoughtfully.  
  
“I guess,” Jihoon shrugs, “I do like that I’m doing what I like in both situations. Do you, um. Do you like working there?” Jihoon fumbles to add in the question, trying to remind himself to meet Seokmin halfway as far as the effort put into the conversation.  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin says brightly, nodding. “It’s a nice shelter. We have a no-kill policy. I like dogs. It works out well.”  
  
Jihoon hums thoughtfully. “Dogs are nice, I like them too.”  
  
“Do you have a pet, hyung? Oh,” Seokmin asks, then turns to Jihoon with a cautious look on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t ask if I could call you that.”  
  
“No,” Jihoon shakes his head, “you can, that’s fine. Um, no,” he adds, “I don’t have a dog. I never really thought of getting one, but I think I’m too busy to care for one properly, anyway. You?”  
  
“Same,” Seokmin says, lips pursed. “Sometimes I’m never home, I think a dog would feel lonely with me.”  
  
Seokmin is easy to talk to, Jihoon finds out. His way of asking questions is gentle and non intrusive, and Jihoon doesn’t mind answering him. He matches Jihoon’s quiet tone and the whole ride talking feels soft and a little dreamy with the street lights flashing behind Seokmin outside the cab window, like a moving liminal space, like from the time they left Seungcheol’s place to when their cab driver drops them off at Naksan Park, a halfway point between their parents, something changed. Not between them, necessarily, but something subtle and intangible.  
  
“Well,” Jihoon says as their cab drives off, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “Thanks again, for letting me ride with you.”  
  
“It was my pleasure,” Seokmin shakes his head gently, smiling politely. Jihoon nods, then pauses.  
  
“I’ll probably see you around, right?” he asks carefully.  
  
“Probably,” Seokmin says with a breathy laugh. It makes his eyes charmingly crinkle up at the corners. “It was nice talking to you, hyung.”  
  
“Yeah, you too,” Jihoon nods. He squeezes his hands inside his pockets, bites his bottom lip nervously. “Well. I’m that way,” Jihoon says, gesturing behind Seokmin with a jerk of his chin.  
  
“I’m down here,” Seokmin points down a street across from them, then looks at Jihoon again, and the way he suddenly turns his eyes down on him makes him aware of Seokmin’s unfaltering attention. “Be safe on your way home, okay?”  
  
“Good night, Seokmin,” Jihoon says nodding, and waits for Seokmin to leave first before he starts heading home.  
  
Jihoon still has work to go into early in the morning, so he can’t stay up too late, but still, while he waits for Wonwoo to message him that he and Soonyoung got home safely, Jihoon lays in bed thinking about the way Seokmin’s skin looked like dull bronze under the reflection of lamp posts outside their cab, and how his lashes cast long shadows down his cheeks.  
 **  
******

* * *

  
The weekend after Jeonghan’s birthday, Jihoon meets Jeonghan and Seungkwan for lunch.  
  
They try to make it a weekly thing, meeting up on Saturdays to have a meal together, but sometimes they have to cancel if more than one of them is busy.  
  
When Jihoon arrives at their usual place, Jeonghan is already waiting for them at a table, and puts his phone down when he sees Jihoon coming for him.  
  
“Did you wait long, hyung?” Jihoon asks as he sits down beside him.  
  
“No,” Jeonghan shakes his head, “I just sat down. Seungkwanie says he’s gonna run a little late.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Also, I invited Seokminie, hope that’s okay.”  
  
“Oh,” Jihoon pauses, a little surprised at that, “yeah, okay.”  
  
Jeonghan grins at him. “How was your week, Hoonie?”  
  
“Slow,” Jihoon tells him, “less rehearsals this week, a lot of slow days at the studio. You? How’s Shua-hyung?”  
  
“You don’t ask about Cheolie?” Jeonghan asks with a smile on his face, turning his body to face Jihoon.  
  
“What, you think he doesn’t message me every other day? I’d like to hear less about him, thanks.”  
  
“We’re fine,” Jeonghan says easily, grinning. “Pretty normal week. Work is a little slow for me, but those two were pretty busy.”  
  
“Seungcheol-hyung had parent teacher meetings last night, right?”  
  
Jeonghan nods, opens his mouth to say something, then stops when they both see Seokmin walking to their table, a warm smile on his face. Jihoon wonders if it’s a permanent feature on his face.  
  
“We’re talking about our weeks, Seokminie,” Jeonghan tells him, “I was telling Jihoon how Seungcheol has sweet kids in his class, but their parents are the devil.”  
  
Seokmin giggles, surprised, then shifts his face into something like a grimace and Jihoon watches, shocked to find him making expressions other than smiling.  
  
“All of them?” Seokmin asks as he sits down across from Jihoon. He pauses to offer Jihoon a polite smile as a form of greeting that startles Jihoon into smiling back, a little embarrassed.  
  
“Yeah, they're like little parts of a whole, you know, like if they came together, they’d merge and mold into the same person, and that person would be the devil.”  
  
Jihoon tries not to laugh by pressing his lips together and keeping his eyes down, but it bubbles out of him in breathy sounds through his nose.  
  
“How was your week?”  
  
“Fine,” Seokmin says with a grin, nodding. “I was at the shelter a lot this week, but I went to an audition on Wednesday.”  
  
“Oh,” Jeonghan drags the syllable out, impressed.  
  
“They’re supposed to let us know about callbacks this week, so. We’ll see,” Seokmin shrugs.  
  
At that moment, Seungkwan comes towards their table, and Jihoon can tell by the huffy way he’s breathing as he takes off his outer jacket that he’s upset about something.  
  
“Oh no,” Jihoon mutters.  
  
“What happened?” Jeonghan asks at the same time. Seokmin turns to look at Seungkwan as he takes a seat. Seungkwan looks between all of them, already gesturing with his hands.  
  
“So I went in to work today, right, not like, for actual work, I just needed to get some things and look something over,” Seungkwan starts, gearing up for a long story, probably. Jihoon grins at the familiarity of it.  
  
“Right,” Seokmin agrees, nodding and looking rapt already.  
  
“And then, as I’m leaving to come meet you guys, one of my supervisors comes to talk to me,” Seungkwan’s voice pitches low and whispery, like he’s sharing some notorious secret with them. “I’m all _hi_ and _good morning_ and _how’s the husband_ , because I’m sweet and polite.”  
  
“Sure, yeah,” Jeonghan says through a breathy laugh, and Seungkwan nods, taking it as an agreement and running with it.  
  
“I’m an unsuspecting victim in this okay, because then she turns to me and goes, _Seungkwan-ssi_ , and I can tell she wants something but I’m thinking maybe she wants me to put in some overtime, and that’s fine, I like money, I don’t care, but then she goes, _Do you have a girlfriend?_ ” Seungkwan pauses, for dramatic effect, maybe, and Jihoon scrunches his nose, already seeing where this is going.  
  
“At this point, I’m losing track of the conversation, but maybe she’s just asking out of curiosity, so I’m like, _No, Miss, I don’t_ because I don’t right, I have a Hansol.”  
  
Seokmin laughs at the way Seungkwan says _Hansol_ instead of _boyfriend_ , but Jeonghan and Jihoon are used to that and know Seungkwan doesn’t mean anything by it.  
  
“Then she goes, _Great_ , and I’m thinking, oh no,” he pauses, and when he starts again, he makes his voice sound nasal while he mimics his supervisor. “ _Well_ , she says, _I just have this wonderful niece that I think you would really like, I think you two should meet_ .” Seungkwan stops and makes a face, mouth hanging open and brow wrinkled in the middle. “Like, first of all,” he keeps going, tone snappy and fast, “I personally think that’s maybe a little inappropriate for the work environment, you know, like maybe buy me some coffee and ask me when I’m off the clock.”  
  
Seokmin raises his eyebrows and purses his lips in a very _You have a point_ expression.  
  
“But then, I’m also standing there, looking at this five by seven framed photo of Hansol and I on my desk and all I can think is, _You think I’m straight? That’s so embarrassing_ , while trying to come up with the most socially acceptable way of saying _Listen, I worship women, I really do, but unfortunately I am attracted to men, though luckily my boyfriend is wonderful and a sweetheart, but thanks for checking with me_ .”  
  
“Well, first,” Jeonghan says in a tone that implies he’s taking Seungkwan very seriously, “I think you have to stop and wonder at what point all of that becomes oversharing.”  
  
“I really don’t think oversharing is important in the face of _harassment_ , hyung.”  
  
“Harassment,” Jihoon breathes, leaning against Jeonghan’s shoulder as he laughs.  
  
“What kind of picture do you have of you and Hansolie?” Seokmin asks kindly, but he’s grinning too, all the way up to his eyes.  
  
“It’s just one of us from our trip to New York, standing in front of the Liberty statue,” Seungkwan says with a sigh.  
  
“You can’t expect her to assume he’s your boyfriend from that picture alone,” Jihoon says.  
  
Seungkwan scoffs. “Oh, okay,” he says, “but it’s more believable I’m gonna have a photo of me and my _dude bro_ on my work desk.”  
  
“The proposal is inappropriate, I agree, but you can’t be upset she didn’t know you have a boyfriend,” Jeonghan laughs.  
  
“Yes I can,” Seungkwan insists, “it’s practically a hate crime.”  
  
“Oh my god, no it’s not,” Jihoon says.  
  
“ _I_ hated it,” Seungkwan mutters as he looks away.  
  
Someone comes to take their order then, and Jihoon has to keep himself from laughing at the way Seungkwan’s expression morphs into his brightly polite persona. As soon as their server leaves his face falls and he turns back to them with a deadpan expression.  
  
“How’d you get out of it, then?” Jeonghan asks. Seungkwan juts his head forward and widens his eyes.  
  
“I like, told her I wasn’t looking for anything new, because I’m not, and then told her I was running late to meet some friends. It was so embarrassing, though,” Seungkwan asks, “like what if someone heard? All of my friends are gay, I can’t have that sort of rumor going around.”  
  
Jihoon thinks about that, and he supposes that, except for Seokmin, who is unidentified to Jihoon for now, all of Seungkwan’s _are_ some spectrum of gay.  
  
“Anyway,” Seungkwan shakes his head and takes a sip of his water, “sorry, not everything’s about me. How are you guys?”  
  
They tell Seungkwan everything they talked about before he arrived, and he seems to be very interested in Seokmin’s audition. Jihoon listens as Seokmin tells him how it’s supposed to be some musical fairy tale retelling for adults, but it’s rewritten by a just starting theatre director, which means it will probably stay a small production  
  
“Is it common for actors who already have experience to do smaller stuff?” Jihoon asks, piping in when there’s a pause between their conversation. Seokmin seems a little surprised at him, but it’s quickly replaced by a bright smile.  
  
“Yeah, I mean, there’s not always room to be choosy, because productions come and go and there are slow seasons,” Seokmin explains kindly, “so sometimes you audition a lot, and you take what you can get. But I actually really enjoyed the music for this one when I listened to it, so I’m hoping I can be a part of it one way or the other.”  
  
“How many productions have you done so far?”  
  
“Um,” Seokmin hesitates, pausing to think about it. “Since graduating college, I’ve done four.”  
  
“Seokminie’s played a leading character in all of them,” Jeonghan says, but he’s looking at Jihoon in a way that reminds Jihoon of the night at the party, makes him feel like Jeonghan is trying to sell Seokmin to him again.  
  
“I think that’s so cool,” Seungkwan says before Jihoon can think of doing something mean to Jeonghan under the table. “I think I’d be a good entertainer.”  
  
“You’re the main character in all of our lives, Seungkwan-ah,” Jihoon says as he looks at him instead of Jeonghan. Seungkwan blinks at him before he lowers his eyes and smiles bashfully, waving his hand in Jihoon’s direction.  
  
The rest of lunch goes as well as it usually goes, that is to say, at no point does it feel awkward or forced. Jihoon wonders if Seokmin gets along this well with everyone else, with everyone ever.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Does it seem kind of empty here to you?” Seokmin asks as he and Jihoon settle into two empty seats beside each other on the train. They parted ways with Seungkwan and Jeonghan after lunch before they realized they were both headed in the same direction anyway, so they may as well make their way home together.  
  
Jihoon spares a look around. Other than he and Seokmin, there is an elderly man sitting at the other end of the train car, some kids who seem like high school students, and a small boy sleeping against his father’s shoulder. He’s not complaining, because he always appreciates not having to avoid getting pushed around the jostle of bodies in the subway, but he can agree it is more vacant than usual.  
  
“Maybe it’s just a slow Saturday,” Jihoon suggests, shrugging as he folds his hands over his knees.  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin hums quietly, shifting his legs from side to side, knees knocking together in the middle. “Do you have any plans after this, hyung?”  
  
“I have some work I need to get done,” Jihoon nods, staring at Seokmin’s knees absentmindedly. “And I need to get some practice hours in with the clarinet, but that’s all the stuff I can do at home. You?”  
  
Seokmin shakes his head as the train starts moving. “Not really. I work almost all day tomorrow, so I’m off today. I’ll probably go home and do nothing,” he tells Jihoon with a slight laugh, and when he turns to look at him, Jihoon lifts his eyes.  
  
He hadn’t ever really noticed how close together these train seats are, but he notices it now as he’s faced with the proximity of Seokmin’s bright smile, the gentle light in his eyes and the sliver of pink above Seokmin’s top row of teeth. Jihoon notices the mole under his eye, and the mole under that mole, and has to look away when his eyes begin to feel like they’re crossing.  
  
“That sounds nice,” Jihoon offers as he looks down at his stretched legs in front of him. There's a patch of dust towards the tip of his shoe and his laces look like they need washing. Seokmin makes an affirmative hum beside him, and they fall quiet. The train slows to a stop, and the elderly man slips out the exit nearest to him. In exchange, a young couple comes in, chatting animatedly.  
  
Quietly, as the train jolts to a start again, Seokmin says, “Do you ever look at high school kids now and wonder if you were ever that small?”  
  
Jihoon blinks, glancing up at Seokmin, and then follows his line of sight to where the high school kids from before are sitting, talking to each other with big hand gestures and animated expressions. He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “What do you mean? I’m still that small,” he says jokingly.  
  
Seokmin laughs beside him and shoves Jihoon’s shoulder playfully. There’s a smile on his face when Jihoon turns to look at him, Seokmin’s body angled to face him. Jihoon thinks they’ll fall silent again, because they haven’t known each other for very long and they only met because they have common friends and because Jihoon is bad at making conversation, but then Seokmin shoves his shoulder again and asks, “What were you like in high school?”  
  
“Ugh,” Jihoon groans as soon as the question is asked. “Don’t ask me that. I was embarrassing, everyone’s embarrassing in high school.”  
  
Seokmin is laughing beside him, with his lips pressed together in a way that makes his mouth look small and the muscles in his cheeks clench. “Was Cheolie-hyung embarrassing in high school?” he asks and tries to look like he wasn’t laughing, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed very seriously.  
  
Jihoon takes a pause, drawing a quick blank at that until he remembers the night at Jeonghan’s party when Seungcheol told Seokmin about how he and Jihoon have known each other since high school. “Yes,” Jihoon says flatly, “but he was always handsome, so he got away with it. Like, if you’re asking, Soonyoung was way more embarrassing.”  
  
“You knew Soonyoungie-hyung in high school?” Seokmin asks, head tilted curiously.  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon hums, nodding. “The three of us have been friends since we met in high school.”  
  
“Oh, wow,” Seokmin says, sounding a little impressed. “That’s a long time.”  
  
Jihoon nods, mouth pursed. Ten years is a long time to be friends, he thinks, long enough for it to feel like he’s known them his whole life.  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon repeats and after a thoughtful pause he says, “Soonyoung used to wear tiger printed shoes to school. Or, like,” he goes on despite the laugh bubbling out of Seokmin, “tiger printed accessories, because he realized no one got to _appreciate_ his shoes if he had to take them off, so he started wearing tiger printed snapbacks and a tiger printed watch.” He can feel himself making a face just thinking about it.  
  
“Why tiger printed?” Seokmin asks, and Jihoon thinks it’s sweet that Seokmin doesn’t know enough yet to know there is no reason to Soonyoung’s madness.  
  
“Why does Kwon Soonyoung do anything?” Jihoon huffs, shaking his head.  
  
Seokmin laughs again, repeating the way Jihoon said Soonyoung’s name under his breath. When it dies down, he says, “I’m surprised you and Soonyoung-hyung have been friends for so long.”  
  
“We get that a lot,” Jihoon responds. All through college they knew people separately who would always be surprised once they found out Jihoon and Soonyoung are friends. Jihoon gets it. He always pretends he’s mildly inconvenienced by Soonyoung, but it doesn’t take away from how close they are, the fact that Soonyoung, and Seungcheol for that matter, are closer than family to him.  
  
“You met Soonyoung when he was drunk, so you didn’t get to see it,” Jihoon explains, “but he’s actually pretty quiet around people he doesn’t know. He only gets loud and ridiculous once he gets comfortable. It’s a trap,” Jihoon deadpans and when he looks at Seokmin with a somber face, Seokmin starts to laugh again. “He lures you in with normalcy and then when you get attached and it’s too late, he shows you his true colors.”  
  
Seokmin shakes his head, grin on his face, and the way he looks at Jihoon, all warm and amused, makes Jihoon think that no matter what he says, Seokmin will be able to see right through him. “You guys must be very close, the three of you,” Seokmin says kindly, smiling at Jihoon.  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon sighs, like it’s a huge weight on him. “They’re, like, brothers to me, or whatever, you know?”  
  
“Or whatever,” Seokmin agrees, grinning.  
  
“What were you like in high school?” Jihoon asks in turn as he watches Seokmin, takes in the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.  
  
“Oh, you know,” Seokmin says through his laugh and a vague gesture of his hand. “Lame. Dorky. I was popular, though,” he adds with a faux smug smile.  
  
Jihoon scoffs and says, “Of course you were,” as he rolls his eyes, imagining nice, friendly, younger Seokmin, friends with everyone.  
  
Seokmin laughs at his response, then shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, noncommittal. “Pretty basic, same as most high school kids. I didn’t stay in touch with any of my high school friends though,” he adds, seemingly as an afterthought. Jihoon likes that Seokmin offers as much information as he’s been giving, the effort he makes to meet the conversation halfway. It helps Jihoon not to feel like he’s being left empty handed, or like he’s said anything stupid.  
  
“I think most people don’t,” Jihoon says, knows he and Soonyoung and Seungcheol are an exception. The three of them might not have even stayed friends if he and Soonyoung hadn’t followed Seungcheol to college.  
  
“That’s true,” Seokmin agrees, smiling. He pauses as the overhead voice announces their next stop, then carefully says, “Actually, I was glad to meet Hannie-hyung when I did,” and at Jihoon’s blank look goes on to explain, “I moved here after college without knowing anyone, you know? It was hard to meet people at first, especially while working.”  
  
Seokmin laughs softly as he says it, but Jihoon thinks about how lonely it must have been for someone like Seokmin, who is kind and friendly and who gets along with everyone he meets so easily, to be living away from home without close friends to depend on. He knows he hasn’t known Seokmin for very long yet, but it still makes some strong feelings of protectiveness for him unfurl in Jihoon’s chest.  
  
Jihoon doesn’t say any of that aloud. Instead, he looks at Seokmin gravely and with a touch on his arm says, “Are you trying to tell me you got stuck with us?”  
  
Seokmin laughs again, and Jihoon questions if he’s always been this funny, or if Seokmin is just being nice by laughing at all his dry comments. “You make it sound like I’m being trapped.”  
  
“You haven’t been here long enough, give it another few weeks,” Jihoon challenges and withdraws his hand from Seokmin’s arm. Seokmin ducks his head as he keeps laughing.  
  
“I think I’m getting a good deal,” Seokmin says, “all I did was make friends with Jeonghan-hyung and I’m getting like twelve friends for the price of one.”  
  
“Well,” Jihoon purses his lips and looks away from Seokmin, pauses for effect. “Eleven friends, and a Soonyoung.”  
  
Seokmin laughs for the tenth time, and the sound makes Jihoon smile.  
  


* * *

  
Wednesday afternoon, Jihoon goes to the coffee shop near his apartment after orchestra rehearsal instead of going straight home. He thought about going home to work on music at first, but once he’s at the turn between his apartment and the coffee shop, he wavers and decides that if he goes home he’ll only avoid getting work done by doing other things, and that a change of scenery would be good for him, and he turns right instead of left.  
  
As soon as Jihoon steps into the coffee shop, the smell of pastries and the aroma of coffee washes over him in pleasant, calming waves. There’s music playing over the speakers, something without words and plucked strings, and not a lot of people inside, which Jihoon expects for two o’clock on a Wednesday.  
  
There’s no line either, so Jihoon steps right up to the counter and places an order for an iced Americano. He considers that he might be here for a while, and then orders a croissant sandwich as well.  
  
After paying, Jihoon steps off to wait for his order by the counter on the side. He looks around aimlessly while he waits, glances at the tables as he thinks about where he wants to sit. His clarinet case is starting to get a little heavy, strapped to his back, but just as he’s thinking that he can’t take it off yet because he’ll have two things to carry, someone behind him says his name.  
  
“Jihoon-ssi?” says a voice that Jihoon doesn’t recognize as familiar until he turns around. Seokmin is sitting at the table near the window and directly behind Jihoon. He blinks once before a smile lights up his face at the sight of Jihoon.  
  
“What’s with that?” Jihoon responds. “I thought I said you could call me hyung.”  
  
Seokmin ducks his head as he laughs softly, then looks back up at Jihoon. “Sorry,” he says, grinning all the way to his eyes, “I wasn’t sure if it was you, and I didn’t wanna seem rude.”  
  
Jihoon opens his mouth to say something else, but he pauses as the barista comes towards him with his order. He thanks them with a polite nod before they walk away, then takes his coffee cup and the paper bag holding his sandwich and comes to stand beside Seokmin’s table.  
  
“You know,” Jihoon hums, noticing the way Seokmin follows him with his eyes. “I think it’s funny that all this time we’ve lived close to each other but only now are we suddenly bumping into each other.”  
  
“You don’t know that,” Seokmin responds quickly. “Maybe we did but there was no reason to notice each other, and it’s easier now that we’ve actually met.”  
  
Jihoon highly doubts that. He can’t imagine missing someone like Seokmin anywhere, but he doesn’t tell him that.  
  
“That’s fair,” Jihoon says with a nod. Then he notices the stack of papers spread in front of Seokmin, the pencil and differently colored markers. He nods in their direction and asks, “What are you doing?”  
  
“Script reading,” Seokmin answers after he quickly flicks his eyes towards his table, then looks back at Jihoon, still smiling. “I got a call back for that musical I auditioned for, so I’m going over the script and marking down what I think they might wanna see, what I think I should work on just in case.”  
  
“Oh,” Jihoon says, nodding in understanding. “Then, congratulations? That means you’re closer to getting the part, right?”  
  
“Hopefully,” Seokmin says cheerfully with a shrug, “they could still choose someone else. Or they could want me for a different part, which isn’t bad, better than nothing. But,” he adds, “thanks, hyung. What’s that?” Seokmin asks this time, nodding at Jihoon’s case.  
  
“My clarinet,” Jihoon responds. “I just came from orchestra rehearsals.”  
  
Seokmin nods, then looks down at Jihoon’s hands. “Are you staying?” he asks, and when Jihoon nods, his smile turns small and shy. “Do you wanna sit with me then?” he asks with a faint gesture at the chair across from him.  
  
Jihoon looks at the seat in front of Seokmin, then at Seokmin, and on a whim decides, “Sure, thanks,” with a smile. He sets his coffee and sandwich down first, then takes off his case and sets it down beside his chair before he sits down. “I won’t bother you too much,” Jihoon tells Seokmim, “I was planning to get some work done as well.”  
  
“What are you working on?” Seokmin asks curiously and leans forward on his seat a bit. Jihoon finally sees the cup of boba tea Seokmin is drinking, and the slice of what looks like lemon cake.  
  
“Lyrics, maybe,” Jihoon says with a shrug. “I don’t have anything I have to, like. Turn in or whatever, but I try to work on stuff a little everyday, for practice, you know?”  
  
“That’s very diligent of you,” Seokmin says in an impressed tone. Jihoon makes a face at him, scrunches his nose up and squeezes his eyes shut, but he cracks and laughs when Seokmin giggles at him. Jihoon reaches down to crack open his case and take out the notepad he keeps in there, and the pencil he uses to mark up his music sheets in rehearsals, aware Seokmin is still watching him.  
  
“What?” Jihoon asks as he sets his things down on the table, glancing up at Seokmin briefly before he looks down at the table again, flipping his notepad open to the next blank page.  
  
“Nothing,” Seokmin says quickly, quietly, and shakes his head, but he’s got this weird look on his face that Jihoon can’t place, soft and bright. Seokmin tilts his head then and says, “Hey, what do you guys rehearse for, anyway?”  
  
The tone of his voice startles at a laugh out of Jihoon, because it kind of sounds like Seokmin thinks they meet up and play their little instruments, call it a day, and then go home. If Jihoon is being awfully honest, it’s not too far from the truth, but he doesn’t tell Seokmin that. What he says instead is, “Stuff,” with a little indignant huff. “Sometimes we put on concerts, other times we play at functions and events. Stuff,” Jihoon repeats, like that merits as a proper response.  
  
Seokmin looks at him with bright eyes, mouth tight like he’s trying not to laugh. He nods and in a not very convincing tone of seriousness repeats. “Stuff, yeah, obviously.”  
  
“Don’t you have work to do?” Jihoon says shortly, nodding down at Seokmin’s script, just to be difficult, and maybe to get Seokmin to stop looking at him before he gets embarrassed. Seokmin’s smile does this cute little thing where it widens up enough to show his teeth and wrinkle the bridge of his nose, and then he does stop looking. He turns his eyes down to the table and uncaps one of his highlighters.  
  
Jihoon tries to set his mind into work mode as well, but he’s distracted. On one hand, he keeps remembering to drink his coffee and eat his sandwich, and every time he does, his thoughts trail off and he forgets about what he’s thinking about in the first place.  
  
On the other hand, Jihoon is very aware of Seokmin sitting across from him, and that this is the third time they’ve unexpectedly found themselves sort of mostly alone together. There are other people around them, coffee shop employees and three or four other people sitting inside. Relatively alone. Alone without any of their other friends to buffer between the two of them. Not that Jihoon needs a buffer, he doesn’t think. He likes Seokmin and every conversation they’ve had so far has been easy and pleasant. He likes the way Seokmin listens, and he likes learning new things about Seokmin like last time when they took the train home together, or now, as he watches Seokmin highlight things in different colors, clearly going by some color guide Jihoon isn’t privy to.  
  
Not for the first time, Jihoon notices how pretty Seokmin is. He knows a lot of pretty people, actually. Jeonghan, for one, who is pretty in a sweet, angelic way that is deceiving to some parts of his personality, and Wonwoo, for another, who is pretty in a more serious, monochromatic way. Minghao, too, who has literally been in modeling ads and commercials, and Mingyu, who is pretty in a rugged, boyish way.  
  
Jihoon isn’t actively aware of how pretty his friends are though, not in the way he thinks of Seokmin as pretty. None of them are pretty in the way Jihoon thinks Seokmin is, either.  
  
There’s something so warm and bright about Seokmin, about his face, like if you made a little tear on his skin, sunbeams and light would pour out through the crack. The golden tones of his skin are evidence of that, too bright to be kept in. Jihoon gets caught on the sharp angles of Seokmin’s face, the length of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, and the jut of his jawline; he’s thrown off by the soft parts of his face, the charming cupid’s bow above his top lip, the soft shape of his eyes when he smiles, the curve of his cheeks when he laughs. **  
** **  
**If Jihoon looks at Seokmin for too long now, in the warm afternoon light spilling in through the glass windows of the cafe, he starts to lose focus, grows a little dazed thinking of long summer days and bright spring afternoons. He has a fuzzy thought where he tries to fit Seokmin into some art medium, tries to compartmentalize his beauty, but keeps finding himself unable to. He thinks of watercolors and encaustic paintings, of clays and gesso white roses, and none of them seem fit for the job.  
  
Seokmin picks up his boba, lifts the cup and wraps his lips around the straw to drink. Jihoon watches his hand, his long fingers and his knobby knuckles. He notices Seokmin has a tiny star shaped scar on his right ring finger before his eyes trail to the shape of Seokmin’s lips around his boba straw and he notices the pink color of Seokmin’s lips, like tulip buds just before they bloom.  
  
The straw pops out of Seokmin’s mouth, and he makes a small noise as he clears his throat, but it’s enough to startle Jihoon into remembering himself and where he is, and he quickly lowers his eyes down to the blue lines on the yellow paper of his notepad, cheeks flushed as he’s suddenly filled with embarrassment.  
  
Jihoon sighs quietly and shakes his head, like he might be able to shake out all thoughts of Seokmin’s face and hands and mouth out of his head by doing that. He picks up his pencil and holds the lead point at the head of the first line on the page, waiting for something to come to him, but he finds himself curiously thoughtless now. It would be just his luck if he shook absolutely everything out of his head.  
  
“Hyung,” he hears a minute later, in a quiet whisper. Jihoon lifts just his eyes to see Seokmin tilting his head to peer at him. When Jihoon looks at him, he straightens his back but goes on in another loud whisper, “Are you working?”  
  
“Obviously,” Jihoon responds after a beat, then holds his empty notepad up to show Seokmin. “Look at all this work I’m getting done. You should learn from your hyung, Seokmin-ah.”  
  
Seokmin laughs at him, and Jihoon sets his notepad down. “Hyung,” Seokmin says again, and Jihoon sits back in his chair to look at him. “Can I ask you something weird?”  
  
Jihoon pauses, curious. “Sure,” he responds, hands gently folded over the table.  
  
Seokmin looks at him for another moment before he lowers his eyes to their table, and his smile seems to grow more bashful than before. “Well, I was just thinking about this and wondering,” he explains carefully, voice quiet. “But is everyone in our group, like. Dating each other?”  
  
Jihoon blinks at Seokmin and stares at him blankly for a moment or two, before chortles of laughter bubble out of him.  
  
“You noticed that?” Jihoon asks through his laughter. Seokmin makes a face as he tilts his head thoughtfully.  
  
“It’s hard not to,” Seokmin answers, which is fair. Subtlety is not the strong suit of most of their friends, especially when they have no reason to be, since they’re all close, most of them having known each other for years and been around for the start of some of the relationships in their group.  
  
“Fair,” Jihoon says. “I know it seems messy at first, but I promise it’s not.”  
  
“I don’t think it seems messy,” Seokmin says quickly with a swipe of his hand. “I didn’t want to assume, though, you know?” His face shifts into something like gentle curiosity as he asks, “Does it ever, like, feel awkward though?”  
  
“Not really,” Jihoon answers easily. “We’re such a big group, there isn’t really room for that. There were only two couples when we all started hanging out together, too, so I think it helps that we were all friends before all the mixing started happening.”  
  
Seokmin pauses for a moment like he’s considering something, then says, “Hannie-hyung, Shua-hyung, and Seungcheol hyung are the first one, right? Isn’t that how you all met each other eventually?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon says, then shakes his head. “But, no. Seungkwanie and Hansol were together even before Shua-hyung and Jeonghan-hyung met. They’ve been together since, like, forever. They’re like an old married couple at this point, it’s super gross.”  
  
Seokmin laughs and nudges Jihoon’s foot under the table, which surprises Jihoon enough to nudge back. “They’re not gross,” Seokmin says in Seungkwan and Hansol’s defense.  
  
“Gross. But if it matters, they’re not the grossest.”  
  
Seokmin’s face now looks a lot like the face he made when Jihoon was talking about Seungcheol and Soonyoung in high school, not so much like the topic is so amusing but more like the way Jihoon talks about it is, and he looks constantly on the edge of laughing.  
  
“Who’s the grossest?” Seokmin asks with a grin.  
  
Without missing a beat Jihoon answers, “Soonyoung and Wonwoo.”  
  
“You’re just saying that cause it’s Soonyoungie-hyung,” Seokmin says immediately.  
  
“And with good reason,” Jihoon snaps back. He goes on despite Seokmin’s laughter. “You didn’t have to sit through Kwon Soonyoung’s constant whining before they actually started dating, alright, _and_ ,” Jihoon says with feeling, trying to get Seokmin to take him seriously, “did you see them at the party? Making out by the _front door_? They’re like that all the time. Blatantly gross in everyone’s faces.”  
  
Seokmin’s shoulders are still moving with laughter when he nods like he’s letting Jihoon have this one. “Fine,” he breathes, “that makes three couples, then.”  
  
“Four,” Jihoon corrects. “Mingyu and Myungho, they’re like. The most recent one, they started going out at the beginning of this year. They’re not too bad, but every now and then Mingyu will get all puppy love sick around Myungho, so they don’t get a pass.”  
  
“What,” Seokmin huffs through a laugh. “You’re just looking for things to judge them for.”  
  
“What’s your point?” Jihoon asks. Seokmin laughs and nudges Jihoon’s foot again. Jihoon pretends not to notice it even as he watches Seokmin.  
  
Seokmin looks up as he quiets down, expression thoughtful. “Who’s missing then?”  
  
“Junhui and Chan,” Jihoon answers. “They’re not together, though.”  
  
Seokmin makes a gently surprised face, draws his head back. “I kind of thought they were.”  
  
Jihoon snaps his fingers at him, eyes wide. “Me too, Soonyoung doesn’t think so, but I think there’s something going on there. Watch,” Jihoon adds fiercely, “you’re my witness, I’m fucking calling it.”  
  
Seokmin bursts out laughing like the sound is startled out of him. He shakes his head at Jihoon, like he’s already used to Jihoon’s antics and maybe even a little fond of them. Jihoon isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about that, but it makes something soft bloom in his chest.  
  
After a minute, he says, “I didn’t expect you to be such a gossip.”  
  
“Gossip?” Jihoon asks, clueless and innocent. “Me? Never.” Seokmin laughs softly and Jihoon grins. “Only about my friends.”  
  
Seokmin nods, takes a sip of his boba. He asks, “What about you, hyung?”  
  
Jihoon looks up at him blankly. “What about me?” He asks, confused. Seokmin grins at him.  
  
“Are you seeing anyone?” Seokmin asks pointedly. “You know, girlfriend, boyfriend?”  
  
“Oh,” Jihoon says softly, finally understanding. “No,” he answers, making a dismissive gesture, “no girlfriend, boyfriend, or otherwise,” he adds, because gender has never been something Jihoon cared about or even noticed. “What about you?” he remembers to ask. “Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”  
  
“Just boyfriends for me,” Seokmin supplies. Jihoon appreciates being met halfway. “But no,” he responds, “no boyfriend, not for a while, actually.”  
  
Jihoon nods, then picks up his cup of coffee and tilts it in Seokmin’s direction before taking a sip from it. “At least you’re not alone,” Jihoon says through a mouthful of straw.  
  
Seokmin ducks his head as he laughs, soft and breathy, then raises his cup of boba and tips it toward Jihoon as well.  
  
They lose track of time talking, their work forgotten in front of them. They talk for hours, until the sun sets, its golden orange tones casting lovely shadows into the cafe and over Seokmin’s face as he smiles and talks to Jihoon.  
  
They part ways outside of the cafe, but on his way home and for the rest of the afternoon, Jihoon carries in his chest the same light, weightless feeling talking to Seokmin for hours gave him.  
  
 **** ****

* * *

  
Jihoon sighs deeply as he pulls his keys out of his front door and flicks the lights on in his apartment.  
  
“ _Surprise!_ ”  
  
Startled, he drops his keys to the floor before he looks up and finds all of his close friends jumping out of hiding spots, the curtains of his windows and the back of the couch and the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room, his front door still hanging open behind him.  
  
“Happy birthday, Jihoonie!” a few of them call, lightly clapping as Jihoon closes his door behind him and toes off his shoes, finally noticing the other twelve pairs lined up against the wall. He knows he’s doing a poor job of keeping his smile down, and his eyes feel a little warm and stingy, but he tells himself no one will notice, for his pride.  
  
“Ah, thank you,” he says softly, waving his clasped hands together in front of his chest, touched and so, so fond.  
  
He watches as Seokmin steps out of his kitchen with a birthday cake in his hand, his eyes carefully fixed on it, and Seungkwan coming close behind him with a phone in his hand, obviously recording.  
  
They only sing a piece of the birthday song for him, probably because they all know the song makes him feel awkward and embarrassed, since he never knows where to look or how to stand, what to do with his hands.  
  
There are glazed strawberries lined up around the outside of the cake, his name written in cursive blue frosting, and a few bright and twisted candles. Jihoon can’t help the way he laughs as he leans forward to blow the candles out.  
  
“This isn’t what my spare key is for,” he tells Seungcheol when he comes around to give Jihoon a brief side hug.  
  
“You are _so_ welcome for this great surprise party, Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol says loudly, and only a little sarcastically, but he’s grinning so wide and so brightly and Jihoon is so grateful for him, so he lets it go.  
  
And, anyway, it _is_ a great party, and one Jihoon wasn’t expecting at all in his plans of spending his birthday at work, and then alone in his apartment re-watching superhero movies and eating instant ramen.  
  
All of the main crew is here, which means only the people Jihoon is most comfortable and familiar with, and he appreciates that more than anything else, that his friends thought of him enough to do something like this for him, and that they were considerate of his preferences enough to remember to keep it lowkey and comfortable for him, just between the thirteen of them.  
  
There are rainbow party streamers hanging from his curtain rod, and the _Happy Birthday_ letters strung across the entryway of the hallway leading to the kitchen. Hansol has a playlist made just for tonight of songs and artists he knows Jihoon likes and plays them over one of Jihoon’s bluetooth speakers. Chan slips a party hat over Jihoon’s head while Jeonghan and Joshua set up their purple FujiFilm camera and start taking pictures. Mingyu takes the cake from Seokmin, sets it down on the coffee table before he follows Seokmin into the kitchen to find spoons and cups for drinks. Soonyoung tries to rub frosting on Jihoon’s face, making Junhui and Minghao laugh from where they’re sitting on the couch.  
  
It’s probably the loudest, most packed his apartment has ever been. Jihoon only spares a moment to worry about his neighbors hating him or getting a noise complaint, but happiness bubbles up in his chest so strongly that he quickly stops caring and instead lets himself enjoy being with his friends on his birthday.  
  
“Soonyoung, I swear to god,” Jihoon hisses through his teeth, gripping Soonyoung’s wrist tightly and holding his frosting finger away from his face, “I am going to dunk your whole face on this cake if you don’t get away from me right now.”  
  
Then, Wonwoo comes around and takes Soonyoung’s hand from Jihoon, tilting his head down to lick the frosting off his finger before he calmly moves to sit on the floor in front of Jihoon’s coffee table.  
  
“There’s beer and box wine,” he tells Jihoon, “but I brought games too, in case we wanted to do something other than drink.”  
  
“That was really gross and I wish I hadn’t had to see it so up close, but thanks anyway” Jihoon says, finally able to sit up straight on his own couch and ignoring the way Soonyoung is gaping at Wonwoo, still holding his finger up. “What’d you bring?”  
  
Wonwoo unzips his bag but starts listing off different board games before he pulls anything out.  
  
“We are _not_ playing Monopoly with Seungkwan here,” Jihoon says with a tone of finality.  
  
“What,” Seungkwan squawks, affronted, turning to look at them from where he was scrolling through the playlist on Hansol’s phone, “excuse me?”  
  
“Dude,” Jihoon shouts back, rolling his eyes, “you’re super competitive, you _somehow_ land on Boardwalk _every time_ , and you still have the nerve to get angry and flip the board.”  
  
Seungkwan opens and closes his mouth like a gaping fish, making Hansol grin beside him, before he lifts his chin defiantly and starts gesturing with his hand.  
  
“At least I don’t cheat like Jeonghan-hyung,” he mumbles petulantly, and Jeonghan looks up from where he’s taking polaroid pictures of Junhui and Chan to give Seungkwan an unimpressed look, raising a questioning hand.  
  
“And the sky’s blue, Seungkwan,” Minghao cuts in, expression calmly disinterested.  
  
“Why are you bringing me into this? I don’t cheat,” Jeonghan says, “I’m an honest, diligent person who makes our games more interesting.”  
  
“Sure you are, Hannie,” Seungcheol says after he stands from where he was sitting beside Jihoon to help Soekmin and Mingyu bring things out from the kitchen, pecking him on the cheek as he passes by Jeonghan. Jihoon meets Chan’s gaze across the room as Chan makes a whiplash sound and Jihoon grins at him.  
  
“Hyung,” Jihoon hears beside him and looks up to see Seokmin brightly grinning at him as he holds out a drink and moves to sit on Seungcheol’s empty spot. “Happy birthday,” he says, eyes so bright and warm that Jihoon can’t help returning his smile, attention zeroing down on Seokmin as he takes the offered cup from him.  
  
“Thanks,” he says softly, and feels his heart flutter in his chest at the way Seokmin’s grin turns a little more boxy when he smiles back, looking only at Jihoon.  
  
He’s wearing this smooth looking plaid button up over light blue jeans ripped at the knees and he looks so good and so soft, it makes Jihoon embarrassed just looking at him, and for a split crazy moment he thinks Seokmin doesn’t feel real, sitting next to Jihoon with his thigh lightly pressed against Jihoon’s arm and his charming nose and the crinkles around his eyes.  
  
They end up playing UNO, at Jihoon’s request, because it’s not a game they can usually all play together, but Wonwoo has two packs of it made for ten players, and Jihoon wanted to play something that wouldn’t require a lot of energy.  
  
“Goddamn it,” Mingyu whispers under his breath, still kind of grinning after knocking into Soonyoung while the two of them laughed at something together. Jihoon looks over and watches as Minghao quietly hands him the napkin he’d been holding under his paper plate so Mingyu can clean the small spill of beer he just made, and how Mingyu smiles at him warmly while Minghao pretends not to see him.  
  
“Hansolie, you asshole, stop giving me all the bad cards,” Seungkwan complains three places down from Jihoon after Hansol gives him another grab two.  
  
“I didn’t have any other cards,” Hansol says.  
  
“You can’t make an exception for your boyfriend and grab from the stack?”  
  
“Yeah, like you’d do that for him if the roles were reversed,” Junhui says as he takes a sip of his drink.  
  
“Fine,” Seungkwan says, tight and snotty, and when his next turn comes around, he drops a red reverse.  
  
“Wait, no,” Seokmin says when his turn comes after Hansol, “it’s Jihoonie-hyung’s birthday, I don’t wanna use my bad cards on him.”  
  
A shocked laugh bubbles out of Jihoon, a fond feeling blooming in his chest. “What are you saying, use your cards, Seokmin-ah, I don’t care.”  
  
Seokmin looks at him with round, innocent eyes as he drops a wild grab four and calls for blue. He manages to hold the expression for a second before he hears Joshua chuckle and bursts into a bright grin that has him falling towards Jihoon, who smacks his knee and laughs, too.  
  
“Hyung,” Junhui says at Jeonghan during his turn after Joshua, “you can’t drop all your two’s at the same time.”  
  
“But that’s how we play at home,” Jeonghan tells him, expression softly confused.  
  
“Dude,” Wonwoo starts, “we said we wouldn’t play like that ‘cause Chan doesn’t know how and he’s too drunk to remember those rules.”  
  
“Am not,” Chan complains, but he’s got a lisp that he doesn’t usually have and the top of his cheeks are flushed bright pink, and he doesn’t even try to stop Soonyoung from pulling and pinching at his cheeks.  
  
“Do you think people gamble playing UNO?” Joshua asks a while later while he blocks Seungcheol from his turn.  
  
“There’s, like, a way you can make it resemble poker, I’ve heard, but I’ve never tried it,” Wonwoo explains.  
  
“Money per cards left in your hand after the game is done,” Soonyoung offers.  
  
“When someone plays a wild, everyone else has to put money down,” Seungkwan challenges.  
  
“Someone plays a reverse, everyone else gets to take money out from the pile,” Minghao says, eyebrows raised.  
  
“Any gambling that goes on in my house, I get ten percent of the winnings,” Jihoon announces in a matter of fact tone.  
  
“Stickler,” Seungcheol accuses, making a face at him, and Jihoon shrugs and tilts his mouth smugly.  
  
“Can we play gambling UNO at our house next time?” Jeonghan asks, tone low and sweet as he flicks his eyes from Joshua to Seungcheol.  
  
“Oh no,” Hansol says gravely as he puts a card down, “I don’t know about that.”  
  
“Uno!” Junhui shouts at Hansol, who stares at him wide eyed before looking down at his cards and realizes he’s right, then breaks out into a grin, shaking his head as he takes more cards from the stack in the middle.  
  
“Saturn’s justice strikes again,” Seungkwan whispers.  
  
“How does Hansolie have uno when I have all these cards,” Mingyu mutters as he pouts down at the thick hand of cards he’s holding.  
  
“That’s because the people sitting around you are merciless,” Seungcheol points out, referring to Minghao and Seungkwan.  
  
“Seungkwanie is an unjust player,” Seokmin points out with a teasing grin.  
  
Seungkwan says, “I have no romantic ties to Kim Mingyu, I don’t owe him mercy,” right before Joshua jerks away from Jeonghan and into Jihoon’s space.  
  
“Hannie, stop trying to look at my cards,” Joshua complains.  
  
“What are you talking about, I’m not looking at your cards,” Jeonghan says, then laughs. “I’m trying to look at Jihoon’s cards.”  
  
Jihoon says, “You can look at my cards, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re still gonna lose.”  
  
By half past eleven, Jihoon tells the boys he doesn’t want them to miss the last trains and have to pay for cabs again, like the last time they had a party, and they slowly start to clear out of Jihoon’s apartment.  
  
“Bye bye, be safe,” Jihoon is saying as Seungcheol squeezes his shoulder on his way out, following close behind Joshua and Jeonghan.  
  
“Bye, Jihoonie, happy birthday,” Junhui says as he comes towards the door, an arm locked with Chan’s.  
  
“Thanks, Jun,” Jihoon says, then glances at Chan, “you’ll make sure he gets home safe, right?”  
  
“Of course,” Junhui says, nodding, then waves as he steps out.  
  
Jihoon closes the door after them, sure they’re the last pair left, but as he wanders back into his living room, he hears the familiar sound of his sink faucet running and slowly steps into his kitchen, confused.  
  
“Oh,” he starts when he finds Seokmin standing over the sink with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows while he washes the dirty cups and utensils they used. “I didn’t realize you were still here, Seokmin-ah.”  
  
“Sorry,” Seokmin says, pausing to rest his forearm against the edge of the kitchen counter as he turns to look at Jihoon. “I don’t mean to overstay my welcome, I just thought I’d help out a little.”  
  
“No,” Jihoon says quickly, shaking his head gently, “you’re not overstaying, it’s fine. You don’t have to do that, though.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Seokmin says with one of his sweet, gently warm smiles, and then turns towards the sink again. “I don’t mind, I don’t want to leave all this to you tonight.”  
  
Jihoon watches Seokmin from where he stands, the way his shoulders shift with the movement of his hands, the broad expanse of his back, how he can’t see Seokmin’s face from here anymore but something about his body language is familiar to Jihoon in a way that lets him know Seokmin is still smiling. He grabs one of his kitchen cloths from the hangers under the cabinets and moves to stand beside Seokmin to dry the dishes he’s already washed.  
  
“Thanks,” he says softly, “will you be okay getting home?”  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin assures him, nodding. “It’s only like a fifteen minute walk from here.”  
  
“You’ll let me know when you get home,” Jihoon says, not like a question.  
  
“Okay,” Seokmin breathes out in a laugh, his head tilting forward. Jihoon looks at him, at his side profile while he smiles, the corners of his eyes turned into crow’s feet. “Did you have fun tonight, hyung?”  
  
“I did,” Jihoon says, smiling. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything special today, so it was nice to come home to this and spend time with everyone. Thanks for coming, by the way,” he adds the last part softly and turns his head to meet Seokmin’s smiling eyes as he hands Jihoon a washed glass of wine.  
  
“Of course,” Seokmin says quietly as well, “I wouldn’t have missed it.”  
  
It’s comfortable and familiar, but something in the air changes then, subtle and quiet. It’s enough for Jihoon to notice it, though. Their eyes lock for longer than is really necessary, and he feels a little stuck on the warm glint of light in Seokmin’s eyes, the soft turn of his smile. His heart picks up, like it’s excited or nervous, and his hands falter when he tries to take the glass from Seokmin without looking, misses his fingers entirely and accidentally grabs his wrist. He looks down then, embarrassed and fumbling as he tries to take the glass from him again.  
  
Jihoon has seen a lot of Seokmin since meeting him at Jeonghan’s party. He’s come to most of their Saturday lunches and to every get together they’ve had since, and sometimes the two of them will meet at the cafe near their apartments and have coffee together while they talk. Seokmin has fit in so seamlessly with their group, gets along so well with everyone, that Jihoon forgets they’ve only known Seokmin for a few weeks.  
  
He likes Seokmin, thinks he’s so nice and funny, makes Jihoon laugh with such ease. He doesn’t know why he feels nervous around him now, all of a sudden.  
  
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jihoon asks conversationally, eyes fixed on the glass in his hand as he dries it.  
  
“I have a shift at the animal shelter in the morning,” Seokmin starts, “and I was planning to run some errands in the afternoon. Why, what about you?”  
  
Jihoon shakes his head. “Just asking. Nothing, they gave me the day off tomorrow since I had to come in on my birthday.”  
  
“Oh, that’s nice of your boss.”  
  
Jihoon nods. “Bumzu-hyung’s nice. I don’t know what to do with my day, though, you know? Like, other than sleep in.”  
  
He turns to look at Seokmin when he’s quiet, and watches the way he purses his lips and points the pucker of his lips upwards. “Would you want to join me in the afternoon? I’ll just be doing boring stuff, but we can grab something to eat after I’m done, if you want.”  
  
“Really?” Jihoon says, somehow a little surprised Seokmin would extend an invitation to him on his busy day just because Jihoon somewhat alluded to being bored on his day off.  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin nods and turns his head to grin at him. “I don’t get off until one in the afternoon, but I can meet you here at half past, if you want?”  
  
“Sure,” Jihoon nods, still staring at Seokmin, “thanks.”  
  
Seokmin beams at him warmly, then turns his eyes back to the sink to clean out all the suds and soap bubbles, all the dishes clean by now. Jihoon thinks he knows Seokmin well by now, but he still finds himself being surprised by how easy kindness comes to Seokmin, how easy it is for him to go out of his way to do nice things for other people.  
  
He stays for a little while longer to help Jihoon put away the cake leftovers and take down the streamers and _Happy Birthday_ letters. When they’re done, Jihoon lingers by his apartment entrance while Seokmin zips up his jacket and slips on his shoes.  
  
“Thanks again,” Jihoon says softly while he watches Seokmin lift his knee to tie his shoes.  
  
“It was no problem,” Seokmin says easily, grinning. He has to look down at Jihoon when he straightens up. Suddenly, Jihoon feels startled to have the full focus of Seokmin’s gaze on him, feels pinned down by the bright fondness in his eyes and captivated by the soft way in which Seokmin smiles at him. He doesn’t know what he ever did to deserve being at the receiving end of that smile. Jihoon feels very aware of the fact that they’re alone in his apartment, the silence around them loud and punctuated only by the thudding of Jihoon’s heart beating in his ears.  
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says, and Jihoon jolts at it, wondering if he’s been caught, though he isn’t sure what for. “Can I ask you something?”  
  
Jihoon nods, feeling his hands go clammy at his sides.  
  
“Um, so,” Seokmin starts, a nervous smile playing at his lips as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, “I actually got casted for that musical I had auditioned for a while ago.”  
  
“Oh,” Jihoon gasps softly, accidentally interrupting Seokmin, who presses his lips together at the look on Jihoon’s face. “That’s great,” Jihoon says, watching Seokmin bashfully duck his head. “Congratulations, Seokmin-ah.”  
  
“Thank you,” Seokmin says softly, smiling even as he keeps his head down a little. “It’ll be a smaller production, but they’re still giving me two tickets to invite guests on whatever nights I want,” he explains, gesturing with his hands still in his pockets. “My mom is coming in to see me closing night, so I’m saving one for her, but, um. I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come see me opening night?” There’s a faint furrow on Seokmin’s brow that makes his eyes look bright and innocent even as he nervously bites down on his bottom lip, and Jihoon finds it all very endearing, even as he blinks and raises his eyebrows, surprised.  
  
“You want me to come?” he asks, pointing at his own chest. “I mean, you’d use your ticket on me?”  
  
“Yeah, I,” Seokmin pauses to breathe in before going on, words faster than usual. “I mean, only if you want to? You don’t have to feel pressured, and I understand if you’re busy.”  
  
“No,” Jihoon says quickly before Seokmin can go on, and he watches the way Seokmin snaps his mouth shut and stares back. “I’d like to come, that sounds great. I’m just surprised you’d ask me over, you know. Anyone else.”  
  
Seokmin shrugs one shoulder, less panicked than he was a moment ago, but still looking rather bashfully nervous. “I want you to come. And, if anything, Hannie-hyung has already come to one of my performances, so,” he trails off, and Jihoon nods so Seokmin doesn’t have to make up something else to finish the thought.  
  
“Then, thank you for inviting me. I’ll be there,” Jihoon says, smiling softly, and then smiling wider when he sees how it makes Seokmin brighten up, the nervous set of his lips turning up in a smile, eyes glimmering warmly. “Just let me know when and I’ll make sure I have time to come, okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin says brightly and nodding. “It won't be until mid-December, but I’ll get the ticket to you before then.”  
  
“Sure,” Jihoon says casually, nodding, and he holds Seokmin’s eyes as they smile at each other, a light, fragile feeling that he can’t name fluttering around in his chest.  
  
“Okay,” Seokmin says softly, still smiling. “Well, I should get going.”  
  
“Right,” Jihoon nods, stepping forward and into Seokmin’s space to put his hand on the door knob. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
  
“One thirty,” Seokmin grins, “I’ll meet you here.”  
  
Jihoon nods and opens the door for Seokmin, watches him step out into the hall. “Be safe, and let me know when you get home,” he reminds firmly.  
  
“Bye, hyung,” Seokmin waves, a bright grin on his face as he turns down the hall towards the elevators before Jihoon closes the door behind him.  
  
He kills time by getting ready for bed until he gets Seokmin’s _I’m home_ and _Good night, hyung_ messages. Jihoon sends back a sleepy Ompangi sticker, and even after the small one next to his message bubble disappears, he keeps thinking about Seokmin’s charming bright grin and the endearing way he turned bashful and shy inviting Jihoon to his play, a fond, warm feeling fully blooming in Jihoon’s chest.  
  


* * *

  
“How was work?” Jihoon asks Seokmin after they greet each other in front of Jihoon’s building, the two of them walking down the sidewalk side by side.  
  
As promised, the morning after Jihoon’s birthday, Seokmin was outside Jihoon’s building and waiting for him at the agreed time. Jihoon had been up since ten and killed time by making breakfast, getting ready early, and getting in some practice time with his clarinet. By the time Seokmin messaged him that he was downstairs, Jihoon was bored and a little stir crazy.  
  
“It was fine,” Seokmin answers cheerfully, turning his head to look down at Jihoon. He must have changed after work, Jihoon thinks, because he’s wearing this striped, long sleeved t-shirt instead of his work polo. The air is cold, but the sky is clear and bright, Jihoon has to squint a little when he looks up at Seokmin’s face. “How was your morning off?”  
  
“Boring,” Jihoon answers, “but Soonyoung says I’m not allowed to complain about my days off anymore, so. Fine, I guess,” he shrugs, pursing his lips.  
  
Seokmin grins and after looking at Jihoon for a moment, he says, “You’re kind of a workaholic, aren’t you?”  
  
“It’s not like that,” Jihoon says defensively, looking away from Seokmin and tucking his cold hands into his pockets. “I just like my job. There’s nothing wrong with that.”  
  
“Don’t you like days off too, though?”  
  
“I never know what to do with myself on days off,” Jihoon responds, a little petulant. “I don’t really do anything other than sleep.”  
  
“Wow,” Seokmin jokes, but after a thoughtful hum, he adds, “I really admire you, hyung.”  
  
Jihoon makes an annoyed sound and swipes his hand in Seokmin’s direction, but it’s mostly to hide his embarrassment. He doesn’t know that his overworking tendencies are anything to admire. The way Jihoon sees it, he’s a pretty boring person, and he distracts himself from that by working and making music, because it’s the only thing he enjoys doing. It’s selfish, not diligent.  
  
“So,” Jihoon says a moment later, looking to change the topic. “What kind of errands are we doing today?”  
  
Seokmin says, “Well, mostly, I just need to get a gift for my sister today,” and Jihoon sharply lifts his eyes to him again, surprised.  
  
“You have a sister?” Jihoon asks, blinking. Seokmin glances at him and chuckles at the look on Jihoon’s face.  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin answers, “why do you look surprised? I didn’t tell you that?”  
  
“No,” Jihoon says, shaking his head and dragging the vowel. He’s mostly only surprised at the fact that it hasn’t come up yet, with how much time he and Seokmin spend talking, by themselves and with the rest of the guys. He asks, “Older or younger?”  
  
“Older,” Seokmin says, “only by a few years.”  
  
“Do you guys get along?”  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin answers with a laugh. “She’s great. We don’t see each other often because she still lives in our hometown and she’s, like. Married and stuff, but we get along well. We talk on the phone often.”  
  
Jihoon nods as he listens, then thinks to ask, “Does she have any kids?”  
  
Seokmin makes a small, excited sound beside him. “Not yet, but she’s pregnant now,” he tells Jihoon happily. “That’s what we’re getting the gift for. I can’t go and see her any time soon, but since my mom is coming, I thought I’d send it with her.”  
  
“You have a sister that’s pregnant,” Jihoon says, a little struck. “That’s wild.”  
  
Seokmin laughs. “Why?”  
  
“Because,” Jihoon answers, “you’re gonna be an uncle. That’s wild.”  
  
“I guess it is,” Seokmin answers, shoulders shaking with mirth. “I haven’t thought about it too much, but I’m excited! I love kids.”  
  
Of course he does, Jihoon thinks as he follows Seokmin into a craft store. It’s easy to imagine Seokmin holding a brand new bald, pink baby and being the nicest uncle in the world.  
  
Seokmin leads the way down ailes of craft materials, little things that catch Jihoon’s eye when he walks by them and that he would probably get distracted by if he weren’t following Seokmin.  
  
They walk to one of the walls at the back of the store and Jihoon dutifully stands beside Seokmin while he scans the shelf, looking for something.  
  
“Here,” Seokmin says suddenly, grabbing a large book from one of the shelves. “This is what I wanted to get.” He turns to Jihoon and holds it out for Jihoon to take.  
  
It’s one of those big, empty baby photo albums with space along the margins and under where the pictures go to write in.  
  
Jihoon flips through it for a moment, and when he gets to the back of the book, his eyes light up. “Oh, look,” he says, turning the book to show Seokmin. “ _Popular movie year baby was born_ ,” he reads off. “ _Popular album_ , _popular song_ , _baby’s favorite food_ . That’s cool.”  
  
“Right,” Seokmin laughs, eyes bright at Jihoon’s excitement. “I thought it was fun. Do you think she’ll like it?”  
  
Jihoon scoffs as he shuts the book close. “I mean, I only just found out your sister existed, so I haven’t quite learned about her tastes on baby stuff yet,” he says drily, Seokmin laughing and nudging his shoulder. “But,” Jihoon goes, “I’m assuming if you like it, she’ll like it, too.”  
  
“I can always return it if she doesn’t,” Seokmin considers as he turns back to the shelf. “What color should I get it?”  
  
Jihoon looks where Seokmin is looking, pauses, and takes out another album that is pastel green after putting the first one back. He glances down at it and grins. “Look,” he turns the book to Seokmin. “Safari animals.”  
  
Seokmin grins at him and nods.  
  
  
 **  
****  
****  
****  
**When they leave the store, the previously pale blue sky has turned a stormy gray that is pouring angry showers of rain. The sound of raindrops hitting the asphalt makes Jihoon think of tiny, determined feet marching up and down the street. The wind blows his hair away from his face and splatters raindrops to the front of his shirt. Other than him and Seokmin, there are only a few pedestrians left on the street, quickly jogging somewhere after getting caught in the rain, otherwise, the previously busy street is now empty and soaked.  
  
“Shit,” Jihoon mutters as he stares at the ripples raindrops make in the small puddles of water welled up between the street and the sidewalk.  
  
“Hyung, you didn’t happen to bring an umbrella, did you?”  
  
“No,” Jihoon hums, looking up at the dark sky. “I didn’t think it would rain, the sky looked so clear when I came out.”  
  
“Yeah, same,” Seokmin nods. He makes an uncertain sound low in his throat. “Should we wait here?”  
  
They’re standing under a small awning that’s flopping in the wind and that only gives them cover if they stand right in front of the door. When the breeze blows hard enough, they still get droplets of water against their fronts.  
  
“I don’t think we can,” Jihoon says quietly, then braces himself as another gust of wind hits them. “It doesn’t look like it’s gonna let up any time soon, either.”  
  
He hears Seokmin sigh beside him and turns his head to look at him. He looks up and down the street, kind of bounces on the balls of his feet, then looks back at Jihoon.  
  
“I think my apartment is closer than yours by a few minutes. You wanna make a run for it?”  
  
Jihoon stares at him. He can feel his face slowly morph into something like annoyed disgust that immediately makes Seokmin laugh at him.  
  
“Fine,” Jihoon groans, glancing down at his shoes to make sure they’re properly tied.  
  
Seokmin grins at him before he takes Jihoon’s hand in his, counts down from three, and runs into the rainy sidewalk with Jihoon behind him.  
  
As soon as he feels the fierce rain on his head and shoulders, Jihoon shouts, upset and annoyed to be getting wet, but he still diligently keeps up with Seokmin. In no time at all, they’re both soaked, Jihoon’s matted hair falling in his eyes and dripping water into his vision.  
  
He has half a mind to be grateful for Seokmin’s hand in his. For one, he doesn’t actually know the way to Seokmin’s place, and in the desperate rush through the rain, he feels like he might get lost from Seokmin in the downpour, as stupid as it sounds. But the palm of Seokmin’s hand is also warm where it holds Jihoon’s, even if his fingers are cold from the rain, and he holds on tight so Jihoon’s hand won’t slip away while they’re running, and it feels oddly familiar, even if this is the first time he’s touched Seokmin like this.  
  
They decide to take the stairs when they get to Seokmin’s apartment building, since they’re literally dripping wet, and Seokmin doesn’t let go of Jihoon’s hand until they reach his door on his floor and he has to dig through his pockets for his keys. Jihoon stands behind him, shaking out his arms and shivering, chilled to his bones.  
  
When they walk in, Seokmin’s apartment feels drastically, pleasantly warm. The sound of thunder rumbles through the sky outside just as Seokmin closes the door behind them.  
  
“Oh,” Seokmin starts with a small, surprised jolt, “I guess we made it just in time. You can make yourself comfortable, hyung, I’ll get us some towels,” he says while they take off their shoes, and Jihoon nods and breathes a quick _thank you_ as he stuffs his wet socks in his shoes and lines them up against the wall, watching Seokmin go.  
  
He feels very aware of the fact that his hair and clothes are dripping water on Seokmin’s floor, but he tentatively walks further into the apartment anyway, absentmindedly looking around.  
  
There’s a jacket thrown over the back of Seokmin’s couch, on top of a folded blanket, and the couch and the coffee table aren’t quite properly lined up together. There’s a bookcase against one wall, one shelf filled with short height books and tall, thin ones Jihoon suspects to be comic books, and another shelf entirely lined up with albums and CDs. Jihoon is only just thinking of walking over and examining Seokmin’s music collection when Seokmin comes back from one of the two doors in the hallway with a towel in his hand and another hanging from his neck that he’s using to dry his hair.  
  
“Thank you,” Jihoon says again when Seokmin hands him the towel. He pats his face and arms dry before covering his head with it and ruffling his hair dry, but something about the sensation makes him visibly shiver, goosebumps running down his arms.  
  
“You’re cold,” Seokmin points out, tone all funny, but Jihoon can’t see his face under the towel, can’t make out why he says it like that. “Here, I’ll find you something to change into.”  
  
Seokmin is already turning away from him and rushing down the hall when Jihoon pokes out of the towel, prepared to complain that he’s fine. He’s thinking of Seokmin’s long legs and broad shoulders and that even with Jihoon’s build from exercising and working out, he’ll probably look drowned in Seokmin’s clothes.  
  
When Seokmin comes back from his room holding folded clothes, he makes an apologetic face at Jihoon. “Sorry,” he says kindly, “I should have thought of that first.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Jihoon assures him gently, shaking his head as he takes the offered clothes, unsure of how to say no at this point. “You didn’t even have to go this far, it’s nice enough of you to offer.”  
  
“It looks like you might be stuck here for a while, and you’re soaking wet, I couldn’t leave you like that,” Seokmin says while wearing an adorably concerned expression on his face. His brow is slightly furrowed and his hair is still falling over his face, but Jihoon can see the way his eyes are round and bright with worry. He kind of looks like a big, sopped puppy to him.  
  
“Well, thank you,” Jihoon says a little pathetically as he holds the dry clothes away from his wet front, but Seokmin’s face immediately slips into a warm smile before he gestures behind him.  
  
“First door in the hall is the bathroom. You can leave the wet clothes in there, if you want,” Seokmin tells him, “I’m gonna change in my room, but just shout if you need anything.”  
  
Jihoon nods, and he tries to return Seokmin’s smile, but he feels awkward and small, letting someone else do so many little things for him, even if he appreciates it so much, so he quickly shuffles into Seokmin’s bathroom and closes the door firmly.  
  
The light in the bathroom is one of those dim dial switches, and Jihoon fiddles around with it for a moment before he peels his wet clothes off and hangs them on the side of Seokmin’s bathtub.  
  
Seokmin has a full length mirror hanging from the back of the door that Jihoon looks into when he’s done changing, and just as he thought, he looks impossibly small in Seokmin’s track pants and sweatshirt. His hair is in that weird stage between no longer soaking wet but also not quite dry, and his cheeks and nose are still kind of pink, though he’s quickly starting to feel warm in Seokmin’s dry clothes. He kind of looks like a drowned rat, half wet and in clothes two sizes too big, and for some reason, the thought of Seokmin seeing him like that makes him flustered with embarrassment.  
  
The pants feel fine around the waist, but he has to cuff them at the bottom so he’s not stepping on the hems. He can’t do anything about the way the sweatshirt pools around his thighs, but he rolls the sleeves a few times until they fall over his wrist bones instead of his fingers. He tries to untangle the wet mess of his hair by running his fingers through the length of it and smoothing it down, but then he starts to feel silly and shakes his hands out, like he might get all the weird nerves and jitters out of him that way.  
  
When he walks out of the bathroom and back into the living room, he can still hear the sound of the rain pitter-patter against the windows of Seokmin’s apartment and the breeze blowing through the buildings outside. Seokmin is standing in front of his coffee table, changed into sweatpants and a loose long sleeved shirt. He’s scrolling through his phone but looks up when he hears Jihoon coming.  
  
“Hey,” he says, grinning brightly. “Better?”  
  
Jihoon is mostly dry now, and much less cold than when they came in. He sighs softly and nods. “Better, thanks.”  
  
Seokmin nods again and looks back down at his phone. “I know I said we’d eat out, but I’m not sure I wanna make some poor delivery person come out in this weather,” he’s talking to Jihoon, but his tone is soft and low, like he’s thinking aloud to himself. “I have frozen pizzas in the freezer, though, does that sound okay with you?”  
  
Jihoon doesn’t know how many more times he can say _You don’t have to_ at all of the little things Seokmin does, but he’s starting to understand that being nice is just part of who Seokmin is, that being kind to others comes as second nature to him and he doesn’t seem to think about it twice. Jihoon likes that about him.  
  
He watches Seokmin and nods. “Frozen pizza sounds good,” he says, and Seokmin’s smile widens into a grin.  
  
“You can stay here, if you want,” Seokmin says, putting his phone down on the coffee table, “I’ll be right back, I’ll just put those in the oven.”  
  
Jihoon watches him go before his gaze drifts off again. He wanders over to the bookcase against the wall, quietly skimming over the titles of books on the first shelf.  
  
A lot of them are plays, some Jihoon only knows by name and others he’s never heard of before. He knows the Shakespeare ones, of course, _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ and _Hamlet_ , _Macbeth_ and _King Lear_ . He knows he’s heard of _Medea_ , but never of _Machinal_ and _Nine Nights_ . He doesn’t know _The Cherry Orchards_ , but he knows _Inching Towards Yeolha_ and _The End of the Royal Palace Restaurant_ .  
  
There are comic books lined up behind the play books like Jihoon guessed, and some of them have a thick enough binding to have the title written on the side, but some of them are too thin to see without pulling them out of the shelf, and Jihoon doesn’t feel comfortable doing that right now.  
  
The books towards the end of the top shelf are separated by a picture frame of Seokmin and a woman who Jihoon thinks is his mother; she has the same wide grin as he does, the same smiley eyes. He recognizes _Harmless Person to You_ on the second half of the shelf, and some of the poetry books by Choi Seungja and Yi Sang.  
  
Jihoon realizes with a start that some of the albums on the second shelf are kpop, and that makes him smile. Between Yoon Dohyun, Moon Myung Jin, Yang Da Il, and Paul Kim Jihoon probably recognizes every name on Seokmin’s music shelf. He runs his finger over the spine of a Baek Yerin CD that Jihoon has in his own room and has to turn his head to make out SE SO NEON’s name.  
  
Seokmin comes back just as Jihoon is thinking about touching the little potted succulents on the next shelf.  
  
“Those aren’t real,” Jihoon hears him say and turns to look at a smiling Seokmin kneeling down by the coffee table to move the papers scattered on it. “I tried taking care of plants for a while, but they kept dying.”  
  
“Seungkwan keeps a lot of plants in his and Hansol’s place,” Jihoon says, “he says it’s really easy to kill plants at first.”  
  
“Seungkwanie seems like he’d be good with that sort of stuff,” Seokmin says, nodding.  
  
“I think he manages it out of sheer determination, you know? Like he probably killed a few and it made him angry and now he _has_ to be good at taking care of plants.” Jihoon smiles at the sound of Seokmin laughing.  
  
“Do you collect CDs?” Jihoon asks as he moves to sit in front of the coffee table as well. Seokmin glances up at him with a blank smile, then at his bookcase before realization colors his face and a different light takes over his eyes.  
  
“Kind of, I guess,” he starts, shoulders shaking. “I went through this phase where I wanted to have all the CDs and albums I really liked, or the ones from artists I like a lot. I know most people just get their music digitally now, but it kind of stuck with me.”  
  
Jihoon nods, tilting his mouth. “I think that’s cool.”  
  
Seokmin beams at him. “Hyung, don’t you buy albums?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon says as he nods and huffs out a laugh, “but music is kind of my whole life, so.”  
  
“Right,” Seokmin says, then looks at him thoughtfully, eyes bright and warm. “Did you always love doing music then?”  
  
Jihoon runs a hand through his hair. It feels more on the dry side, but cold with dampness. “I mean, I grew up playing instruments, you know? Mostly band instruments, and the piano and the clarinet. I went to one of those diverse arts schools growing up,” Jihoon offers as an explanation, “but I didn’t really think about making music until I had to decide what I wanted to do for college and realized music was the only thing I really enjoyed doing or, like. Was willing to put effort into.”  
  
Seokmin listens to him attentively, and he looks at Jihoon with such fixed attention, with a fondness to his smile that he can’t quite place but that makes his heart feel weak in his chest.  
  
“Hyung, when do I get to hear something you wrote?” Seokmin asks, but as soon as he does, the timer on his phone goes off. Jihoon makes a faux apologetic face as he points at it.  
  
“Guess our time is up,” Jihoon says, shrugging. Seokmin narrows his eyes at him, but he’s still got a smile on his face as he waves a finger in Jihoon’s direction.  
  
It doesn’t occur to Jihoon to follow Seokmin into the kitchen, so he patiently waits until Seokmin comes back with two round cardboard cutouts holding a pizza in each hand. He sets them down on the coffee table, tugs a can of soda out of each pocket of his track pants, then sits down across from Jihoon again.  
  
“I forgot to ask,” Seokmin starts, nodding after Jihoon whispers a quick _Thank you_ , “do you have any siblings?”  
  
Jihoon looks up at him while he tries to separate a slice. He’s tempted to respond with _What, you can’t tell by the everything about me?_ but Seokmin is being so nice to him, he holds that one to himself tonight. “Nop,” he says, popping the _p_ and shaking his head, “only child.”  
  
“What are your parents like?” Seokmin asks, and Jihoon absently wonders about all the questions, but he doesn’t mind.  
  
“They’re fine. They’re just kind of normal parents, you know?” Jihoon says with a shrug. “My dad’s chill. They were both always good about being supportive of what I wanted to do, which was nice. My mom texts too much.” It makes Seokmin laugh, so Jihoon looks at him with a somber expression. “You think I’m joking? She sends me a message almost every other hour. She texts Jeonghan-hyung if I don’t respond for a day or two, so now I _have_ to respond.”  
  
Seokmin is still laughing at him. “Your mom knows Hannie-hyung?”  
  
“Hyung knows everyone’s parents,” Jihoon says in a flat tone. “I’m not the only one whose parents talk to him before they talk to us. He came to our hometown to meet Seungcheol’s parents and because mine and Soonyoung’s live close by, he went and met them too. I don’t even know how he knows everyone else’s parents.” Seokmin hasn’t stopped giggling at him, but Jihoon thinks it’s more because he’s started talking angrily fast now. “I’m serious, I suggest you keep your mom away when she comes to see you if you want him out of your business. Actually, he’d find a way anyway, maybe it’s better if she doesn’t come at all.”  
  
“I don’t mind Hannie-hyung in my business,” Seokmin says sweetly, grinning down at his food.  
  
“You say that now,” Jihoon mutters darkly, taking a sip of his soda, but he lets it go. “Is your mom the one in that picture?” he asks instead, pointing at the shelf again. Seokmin nods without looking.  
  
“We look alike, don’t we?” he says, and Jihoon nods.  
  
“What’s she like? I mean, both of them, what are your parents like?”  
  
Seokmin hums thoughtfully, tilting his head. “I think they’re pretty normal parents, too. Mom’s great, she’s always been really supportive. She didn’t even bat an eye when I came out to her, and she always tries to come to my shows at least one night. My dad’s fine too, but he never really understood the theatre stuff. He doesn’t think it’s a practical career.”  
  
Jihoon frowns. “Careers in the arts almost never are, but it’s not about practicality.”  
  
“Right,” Seokmin agrees, breathing out a laugh, but then he shakes his head. “It’s okay, though, I know it’s out of concern, or whatever. He was a normal dad growing up, he still calls whenever he needs to.”  
  
“Are you out to him?” Jihoon asks quietly, hesitant to ask, but figures it’s okay if they’re sharing.  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin says quietly, but he pauses for a moment. “We don’t really talk about it. He still loves me and stuff, but he doesn’t really approve.”  
  
He doesn’t say so aloud, but Jihoon wonders if those two things can coexist.  
  
“Is it better that you told them?” Jihoon asks. He stares at the way Seokmin’s brow furrows gently, how his eyes turn soft with understanding.  
  
“Yeah,” he says again, gently, “like, at least it’s not a secret and I don’t have to hide anything,” he pauses, then looks at Jihoon. “Are you out to your parents?”  
  
Jihoon shakes off the pizza dust from his fingers on top of the round cardboard piece and purses his lips. “It honestly never occured to me to come out. I figured it was my business, why should anyone else know?” He shrugs. “My parents figured it out anyway, when I was in high school, but we never really talked about it, other than when my mom asks _Do you have a girlfriend now? Or a boyfriend?_ and then that’s that.”  
  
He has never gotten the impression his parents _disapproved_ , but rather that they’re sort of indifferent about it. Jihoon can’t say he has any reason to complain.  
  
Seokmin nods, then makes a jerking gesture with his head and makes a breathy sound inwards. “Hyung, sometimes you’re so cool.”  
  
Jihoon gapes at him. “Only sometimes?”  
  
They talk for another hour after they’re done eating before it occurs to them to check for rain outside. It’s always so easy, talking to Seokmin, even for someone like Jihoon who never thinks he has a lot to say. But Seokmin is always so gentle when he asks questions, and always listens patiently without interrupting. His face is open and honest and Jihoon doesn’t hesitate to trust him. He thinks, more than once, that if he was going to get stuck in the rain with anyone, he’s glad it was Seokmin.  
  
“It looks like it’s cleared up,” Seokmin says later, when they finally think to look out the window.  
  
“I should probably get home,” Jihoon comments, “I have rehearsals in the morning,”  
  
“Me too, actually,” Seokmin says with a grin, and Jihoon smiles, but he feels like he’s been smiling most of the night.  
  
“Oh, um,” he wavers when he looks down at himself and remembers his clothes, “what should I do about, um,” he trails off, unsure, but Seokmin smiles kindly and waves his hand in front of his face.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Seokmin says, “I’ll have to wash my wet clothes too, I can just put yours in together and get them to you next time we see each other. I don’t want you to go home in wet clothes.”  
  
“Okay,” Jihoon nods, “thank you. And thanks for dinner, and for letting me come over.”  
  
Seokmin ducks his head a little to find Jihoon’s eyes and grin at him. “Sure, it’s no big deal. We’re friends, aren’t we?”  
  
Something in Jihoon wells up with fondness while something else in him deflates, disappointed, and he’s not sure about the second one, or how he can feel both things at once. Either way, he still feels a surge of affection for Seokmin, and nods as he smiles back at him.  
  
He sees Jihoon off at the door, waits for him to put his damp shoes on without socks, and then hands Jihoon the umbrella sitting by the door as an afterthought.  
  
“Just in case it rains on your way home. You’re walking back, aren’t you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon agrees, only hesitating a little before he takes the umbrella from Seokmin. “Thanks. I’ll see you later?”  
  
“Saturday lunch,” Seokmin reminds him, and Jihoon nods. “Let me know when you get home, okay, hyung?”  
  
“I will. See you later, Seokmin-ah.”  
  
The streets are glimmering under the streetlights when Jihoon comes outside, still shiny and wet from the rain. The air is cold but damp and heavy. Seokmin’s shirt is enough to keep him warm tonight, even as Jihoon takes his time walking home, enjoying the just after rain weather and the lightness he feels in his steps, how his head feels absolutely empty, for once.  
  
He does send Seokmin a message when he gets home, just a quick short message, but Seokmin responds almost immediately with a cute sticker emoticon and a good night wish.  
  
Jihoon thinks about how he should shower, but he feels loose and lazy, and reasons he can shower in the morning if he wakes up a few minutes before he usually does. He doesn’t feel tired enough to go to bed, but he thinks he would pay no attention if he tried to watch a movie.  
  
In the end, Jihoon keeps thinking about the sound of the rain beating against the pavement, and the light tip tap sound it made against Seokmin’s windows in the quiet of his living room with just their two voices filling the room, and how Seokmin’s hand trapped warmth against Jihoon’s when clasped together, and he puts it all to music when he sits down to work on a new song for the rest of the night. **  
****  
******

* * *

  
A few nights later, Jihoon is sitting in his living room working on lyrics when Seokmin messages him to ask if he can call. _  
__  
_Jihoon blinks at the screen of his phone, considering. Technically, he’s busy right now, but he’s been having a hard time with these lyrics for two days now. He keeps writing line after line while feeling all over the place. Either he has all the wrong words, or the right words put in the wrong order, the emotions he thought of conveying when he made the melody slipping away from his fingers the harder he tries to grasp at it. It’s starting to drive him up the wall and the more frustrated he gets, the harder it is to write.  
  
He sends Seokmin a sticker emoticon of Ompangi holding two thumbs up and sets his notepad down on the coffee table. When his phone rings, he waits a beat before picking it up, for no reason at all.  
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says after Jihoon greets him, and he doesn’t realize it until he hears Seokmin’s voice over the line, that this is the first time they’ve spoken on the phone. He spares half a thought to wonder why Seokmin is calling him now. “Were you busy?”  
  
Jihoon hums and shakes his head, even if Seokmin can’t see it. “No, I was just working on some lyrics.”  
  
“Oh,” Seaokmin says softly, “am I bothering you?”  
  
“No,” Jihoon mumbles, leaning against the back of his couch. “I’m struggling to finish them. I’m kind of glad for the distraction, actually.”  
  
“How come you’re having a hard time?”  
  
Jihoon sighs softly. “I don’t know, I just can’t seem to get the words right. I have the general idea down, you know, but I can’t seem to say it the way I mean it.”  
  
Seokmin makes a small noise over the line, something like a hum and a sigh, and Jihoon thinks something sounds off about his tone. Like Seokmin in gray scales, Seokmin with the volume turned down.  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t try to force it,” Seokmin suggests kindly. “Like, maybe you should sit in the feelings for a while before you can express them.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon breathes, nodding. “How come you’re calling, Seokmin-ah?”  
  
If Seokmin falls quiet like he does now, Jihoon can’t hear anything other than the quiet sound of Seokmin’s breathing, like he’s sitting in a silent room. Jihoon wonders if he’s in bed, if it’s dark where Seokmin is. “Is it weird,” Seokmin starts softly, “if I say I kind of just wanted to talk to you?”  
  
Jihoon’s eyes flutter through a slow blink and suddenly, his chest feels tight and warm, full to the brim. The next breath he takes comes in sharp and deeply.  
  
“No,” he says just as softly, “that’s not weird. I mean, I’m always willing to talk to you,” he adds, but that doesn’t sound right, so he tries again, “you can talk to me whenever you want. I like talking to you.”  
  
Seokmin makes another small, gentle sound like a comfort, though it’s still quieter than Jihoon is used to getting from him.  
  
“Did something happen?” Jihoon asks gently, slowly. “You sound a little different.”  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin says, then quickly, “no. I just had a long day.”  
  
Jihoon stares at the way the ceiling light in his living room glints off the surface of his coffee table and feels his heart twinge, just a little. “Do you wanna tell me about it?”  
  
Seokmin is quiet before he sighs, but it sounds huffy and frustrated. “I just. Had a hard day at rehearsals today. I got chewed out by my co-lead for messing up during a run-through of one of our songs.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Jihoon says quickly, lifting his head from the back of the couch to stare at a corner of his wall meanly.  
  
“It’s. I mean, I did mess up, and she kind of apologized at the end of the day. I don’t think she meant to do it, like. I think it was just the stress and pressure of opening night being a week away, and we just had our first dress rehearsal yesterday, but,” he pauses, and Jihoon waits quietly. “It just felt really embarrassing? It wasn’t privately and I didn’t really know how to handle it.”  
  
“What a jerk,” Jihoon says with feeling, angry on Seokmin’s behalf.  
  
“She’s not usually,” Seokmin says. “It’s really not that big of a deal, I think, but it made me feel really bummed out, I guess.”  
  
“I can’t imagine it’s fun being yelled at in front of everyone you work with,” Jihoon says, and he does his best to keep his tone as soft and quiet as they’ve both been talking, if only to avoid upsetting Seokmin again. “It’s not like you aren’t stressed as well, it’s not fair of her to take it out on you.”  
  
“Yeah, but,” Seokmin wavers for a moment and Jihoon waits quietly. “I mean, she could be right. What if I’m not working hard enough? We open in a week, I probably shouldn’t be making mistakes anymore at this point.”  
  
Jihoon listens without interrupting, patient and attentive. It’s the first time he’s heard Seokmin sound so small, and honestly the first time he’s realized there are sides of Seokmin like this too, parts of him that are raw with sensitivity and clouded with doubt. Jihoon has only ever seen him bright and happy until now. If he didn’t find himself a little surprised to hear Seokmin like this, Jihoon wouldn’t have realized he had started to think Seokmin as some kind of invincible, like the small things wouldn’t pierce him.  
  
He would never say it aloud at a time like this, but Jihoon also feels a little relieved about it, to know that wonderfully bright sunshine Seokmin also feels insecure and concerned. It makes Jihoon feel a little closer to him even as he worries over Seokmin.  
  
Jihoon thinks about how hard it can be to comfort someone else. He doesn’t want to take away from Seokmin the way he feels now, but there’s a twinge in his chest that aches and wants to help, wants to make Seokmin feel better in whatever small way he can manage from over the phone. It would be better if he were physically with Seokmin, if he could squeeze his hand and maybe hug him around the shoulders, because Jihoon has never been good with words out of paper, struggles to find a way to convey things verbally.  
  
“I think,” Jihoon starts, low and careful, “only you know how hard you’re working. You can work hard and still make mistakes, it happens. That’s okay. Sometimes other people don’t even notice mistakes the way you do, but even if they do, no one else can say how much effort you’re putting in other than yourself.”  
  
Seokmin stays quiet on the other end, but Jihoon can still hear his quiet breathing, the deep breath he exhales from his chest.  
  
“You know,” Jihoon tries again gently, “I’m actually really looking forward to seeing your performance, Seokminie. I know you’re going to be great, because I believe in you.”  
  
“Oh,” Seokmin breathes sharply, and he sounds startled. “That, um. That’s a really nice thing to say.”  
  
“I mean it,” Jihoon responds, “I know it doesn’t mean anything if you aren’t happy with your own work, but. For what it’s worth, I know you’ll do great.”  
  
“No,” Seokmin says. Jihoon can almost see him shake his head. “It does mean something, to me. I appreciate it.”  
  
“Okay,” Jihoon says, quiet and accepting as he nods.  
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, like. Bother you and make you worry about me.”  
  
“No,” Jihoon says quickly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. I’m glad you called me. I’m sorry you had a hard day, but I don’t mind listening.”  
  
“Thanks, hyung,” Seokmin says, and he says it so quietly and so gently, it feels like the most sincere words Jihoon has had someone say to him. “How was your day?”  
  
Jihoon shifts to lay down on his couch, legs folded at the knees and the top of his head pressed against the armrest. “It was okay,” he says quietly. “Normal. I had orchestra rehearsals in the afternoon, so I was only in the studio in the morning. My mother has taken up gardening so she’s been sending pictures of dirt in pots with little labels all day.”  
  
He hears Seokmin make a sound like a giggle that’s been punched out of him, and something tight in Jihoon’s chest uncoils and softens with relief.  
  
“Just dirt?” Seokmin asks.  
  
“Well, she hasn’t actually grown anything yet. She got all these clay pots and, like. Two bags of dirt and all these seeds and she’s trying to start a garden.”  
  
“Your mom sounds so fun,” Seokmin says with a breath.  
  
“Listen,” Jihoon says shortly, and something about his tone makes Seokmin laugh again. “I need you to understand this. My mother and Soonyoung get along incredibly well. Does that make sense? Doesn’t that tell you everything you need to know?”  
  
“You love Soonyoung,” Seokmin points out unhelpfully.  
  
“And I love my mother,” Jihoon says, “but she’s out of her mind, in the same way Soonyoung is. I think I might need to get a new number soon.”  
  
“Don’t,” Seokmin warns through another bout of soft laughter. “She just wants to share her day with you, don’t take that away from her.”  
  
“Isn’t that what her husband is for? What’s the point of being married?”  
  
“How do you know she doesn’t tell your dad just as much? Maybe she wants to share things with _both_ of you.”  
  
Jihoon sighs. “You’re so nice. I’ll be a better son, just because you made me feel guilty.”  
  
“That wasn’t my intention,” Seokmin says, and Jihoon can hear his grin through the phone. He doesn’t believe him.  
  
Jihoon’s arm starts getting tired a little after that, but it feels so good to have the breathy sound of Seokmin’s voice in his ear over the phone against the quiet of his apartment, he doesn’t want to put it down, and it wouldn’t sound the same on speaker phone. It makes him feel weirdly, impossibly close to Seokmin even when they’re apart, and he can’t say why that’s so important to him right now, but it is. It just is.  
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says a while later, after they’ve been talking for nearly an hour, after they’ve asked each other if they ate well today, if they’re staying warm and drinking water. “You should call me Seokminie more often.”  
  
Jihoon makes a half-hearted annoyed sound. “I knew you’d say something about that, you’re like Jeonghan-hyung in that way, you can’t let it slip.”  
  
Seokmin laughs breathily through the phone and it makes Jihoon feel soft and fuzzy inside. “I can’t, I know you’ll act like you forgot if I don’t say something.”  
  
Jihoon purses his lips, unwilling to affirm or negate that.  
  
“How am I saved on your phone?” Seokmin asks instead.  
  
“Name and family name,” Jihoon answers simply.  
  
“What, that’s so formal.”  
  
“How am I saved in your phone?”  
  
“ _Hoonie-hyung_ ,” Seokmin answers brightly, “with a little music note emoji.”  
  
“Right,” Jihoon says with a breathy laugh, “of course.”  
  
It’s another half hour before Jihoon hears Seokmin yawn on the phone and they start saying goodbye.  
  
“You're tired,” Jihoon points out gently, “you should go to bed.”  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin says, sighing tiredly. “I have a shift tomorrow and more rehearsals. Hyung,” he pauses and waits for Jihoon to hum in response, “thank you for listening. And talking to me.”  
  
“Sure,” Jihoon says quietly, “I don’t mind. It was fun, talking on the phone.”  
  
“Good night, hyung,” Seokmin says, and it’s so soft, Jihoon’s heart feels light and airy with it, like it might float out of his chest. “Sweet dreams.”  
  
“Good night,” Jihoon says back, unable to help the way he sounds just as whispery and quiet. “Sleep well, Seokminie.”  
  
He doesn’t say anything, but Jihoon can hear the breathy sound of Seokmin’s giggle before he whispers out a quick _Bye_ and hangs up the phone.  
  
Jihoon lays face up on the couch for a while before he moves again, overwhelmed with an easy sense of comfort and a softness that settles in his bones, a gentleness that smooths out all the rough parts in him and makes him feel weightless like a spring breeze.  
  
He’s not tired yet, but when he picks up his notepad again, he finds the right words for his lyrics come easily, like they’re being whispered into his ear in kind, gentle tones. **  
****  
******

* * *

**  
****Seungcheol-hyung** **  
**_Jihoon, you’re going to Seokminie’s show tonight, right?_

_Yeah_ _  
__Why?_

**Seungcheol-hyung** **  
**_Just checking_ _  
__  
_**Soonyoung-ssi** **  
**_Hoonie, make sure you wear something nice._

_Why?_

**Soonyoung-ssi** **  
**_Just do it!!_ _  
__  
_**Seungcheol-hyung** **  
**_Just don’t wear a sweatshirt_ _  
__  
_Jihoon rolls his eyes away from his phone while he stands in front of his closet. It’s not like he was gonna show up to the theatre in a hoodie and his slippers.  
  
 **Soonyoung-ssi** **  
**_You should wear that nice blue button up._ _  
__  
_**Seungcheol-hyung** **  
**_Oh, yeah_ _  
__But not with jeans_ _  
__Those dressy black pants_ _  
__They make you look taller_ _  
__  
_**Soonyoung-ssi** **  
**_Yes!_ _  
__They make your legs look nice too._ _  
__  
_Jihoon sighs deeply as he puts his phone on silent and tosses it on his bed. What does it matter, what he wears? He’s going for Seokmin, he won’t care what Jihoon looks like.  
  
Still, Jihoon wavers in front of his closet, staring at his dress pants folded over a hanger while thinking of his folded jeans in his dresser. No one will be paying attention to him. What does he care what Seokmin thinks of his clothes? He’s not going on a date, he’s just going to support a friend.  
  
In the end, Jihoon groans in defeat, Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s voices too deep in his head, and wears exactly what they told him to.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jihoon has to squeeze through the aisle to get to his seat towards the middle of the row. People stand up to let him pass through, which is nice, but makes him feel a little embarrassed, and Jihoon clutches his flowers to his chest to keep them from hitting people and being crushed.  
  
He wasn’t sure about the flowers, still isn’t, he thinks as he takes his seat, feels a little funny about them. But he remembers his mother got him flowers for his first orchestra concert, and he’s seen other people do it. They always toss flowers on the stage at plays, in the movies. Not that Jihoon will throw flowers at Seokmin, he’ll give them to him after the show, because Seokmin told him to wait for him outside when it was over, but flowers are appropriate for a situation like this, aren’t they?  
  
He felt unsure of himself when he stopped by the flower shop too, completely out of his depth and totally flustered when the nice lady who helped him sweetly asked if they were for his girlfriend. He didn’t know what to ask for, so he let her do as she pleased. Jihoon doesn't know anything about flowers, but he recognizes the baby’s-breath stuck in the small pockets of the nosegay, and he thinks the bigger flowers are cosmos, but he can’t be sure, doesn’t know if he’s just making that up. At least there aren’t any roses, Jihoon thinks with vague relief. Roses are too much.  
  
It’s Soonyoung and Seungcheol’s fault that he feels so nervous, with all their talk about dressing nicely. Now he feels overly aware of himself, keeps adjusting the collar of his shirt and the way it’s tucked into his pants, keeps wondering if he should do up the top button. His hands feel a little warm and clammy, and he keeps trying to loosen his hold on the stem of Seokmin’s flowers to keep from getting sweat on them. Something feels tight and shaky in his stomach and he thinks of how weird that is, when he’s the one sitting in the audience while Seokmin is playing a lead role on stage.  
  
That makes him wonder if _Seokmin_ is nervous, and he remembers their phone call from about a week ago, how small and worried he sounded. Jihoon doesn’t usually feel nervous before concerts, but he’s just one instrument out of the many, and the same doesn’t have to be true for Seokmin.  
  
It’s close to when the show is scheduled to start, going by the program they gave Jihoon when he came in, which means Seokmin probably isn’t even near his phone, and it’s probably too late to send him a good luck message. But Jihoon keeps thinking of how touched Seokmin sounded when he told him he was looking forward to this, and of how there’ll be more shows after tonight where Seokmin won’t have anyone he knows watching him in the audience until his mom comes to see him.  
  
Jihoon takes out his phone and types out a quick message without thinking about it much more, not wanting to get caught with his phone out once the lights dim

_Just got here a few minutes ago_ _  
__Good luck, I’m rooting for you!_

His thumb wavers over the send button, wondering if the exclamation point is really necessary, but then the lights flash, and he panics and presses send before he can regret it. He bites the inside of his cheek as he stares at his screen, remembers to send a little Ompangi sticker before the lights dim down. Jihoon double checks his phone is on silent, then tucks it away in his pocket.  
  
Once the show starts, it’s easy for Jihoon to forget himself, everything he had been worrying about before the curtain rose drowned out by gentle music played by the live instruments.  
  
He didn’t think too much about what to expect out of the show, but even if he had, it wouldn’t have matched up to how much Jihoon thoroughly enjoys himself. Seokmin doesn’t come in until scene three, and by that point two different songs have already been sung, but Jihoon is rapt and delighted. He understands why Seokmin made the music the reason he wanted to be involved in this production: it carries with it a nostalgic gentleness that tugs at the heartstrings until it can work its way in and kindly settle into his bones, tender and full of longing.  
  
Jihoon quickly realizes Jeonghan had been right when he implied Seokmin had been modest about his singing. He might be biased, but Jihoon is the most impressed by him, can’t take his eyes off him when he’s the focus of a scene, drawn in by how much emotion his voice carries, how expressive his features are when he sings.  
  
There’s a slow acapella song towards the second half of the musical between Seokmin and his co-lead that Jihoon thinks it’s his favorite. He’s so lost in the song, he forgets to be angry at the co-lead for blowing up on Seokmin. He listens to the pockets of silence between the lines of the song, so quiet the falling of a flower petal would make a sound, and it makes the surge of their singing more haunting, the ache in their singing sending goosebumps up and down Jihoon’s arms and making his chest swell with feeling. He thinks he might cry, for a moment, but then finds himself so entranced that he forgets to.  
  
When the curtain falls at the end of the last scene, Jihoon rises to his feet with the rest of the audience for the standing ovation. The applause continues while the actors come out from behind the curtain to bow, Seokmin and his co-lead first, then the rest of the cast, and Jihoon is filled by such an overwhelming sense of pride, he grins from ear to ear. At one point, he feels like Seokmin looks directly at him, that he holds his gaze as he grins and bows, but Jihoon can’t imagine Seokmin would find him in the crowd when an entire audience is applauding for him.  
  
It takes a few minutes to get out of the theatre once the actors leave, but Jihoon is in no hurry, he knows it will take Seokmin a while to come down from the performance and change out of his costume, so he lets people go in front of him and takes his time walking outside.  
  
A gust of cold wind hits his face when Jihoon steps out, sending a shiver down his spine. There are still people milling about outside in front of the entrance of the theatre, and he isn’t quite sure where to wait for Seokmin, so Jihoon finds a spot to the side of the front door that isn’t crowded by audience members. He leans back against the wall as he cradles the flowers in one arm and folds the play program into his pocket. Unsure of what to do with himself while he waits, Jihoon takes out his phone and remembers he never messaged Seungcheol and Soonyoung back.

_Just got out of the theatre_ _  
__Waiting for Seokmin now_

**Soonyoung-ssi** **  
**_Was our Seokminie amazing?_

_Yeah, actually_ _  
__The whole thing was really good, but he was incredible_

**Seungheol-hyung** **  
**_Greet him for us, Jihoonie_

_Okay_ _  
__Do you think it’s weird that I got him flowers?_

He asks against his better judgement because he knows one of them is about to say something stupid, but now that he doesn’t have the play to distract him, Jihoon is worried about it again. What if Seokmin thinks it’s stupid? What if he laughs at him? Seokmin would never laugh at him, he tells himself, he’s too nice for that, but he might still think they’re stupid and never tell Jihoon about it and he’d have to live his whole life wondering whether Seokmin was secretly judging him bringing flowers. What if he’s so weirded out he never asks Jihoon to come to one of his shows again?  
  
 **Seungcheol-hyung** **  
**_You got him flowers???_ _  
__  
_**Soonyoung-ssi** **  
**_Hoonie you charmer~_

_It’s not too late to throw them away_

**Soonyoung-ssi** **  
**_Don’t!!!_ _  
__  
_**Seungcheol-hyung** **  
**_It’s not weird_ _  
__Isn’t that what people do?_ _  
__Like, you bring flowers to a recital_ _  
__Shua says it’s sweet_

_Dude_ _  
__Don’t share my business with your boyfriends_

**Seungcheol-hyung** **  
** _Hannie says not to throw them away, you’ll make Seokminie sad_ _  
_ _  
_It’s stupid, but it does the trick in making Jihoon feel better about it, because it probably would make Seokmin sad if he found out, and that’s the last thing Jihoon wants to do. He never wants to be the cause of Seokmin’s sadness. Actually, if Jihoon is honest with himself, he would very much like to be someone that makes Seokmin happy, and if there’s even a small chance of the flowers doing that, then it would be worth whatever ounce of embarrassment Jihoon is feeling now.  
  
“Hyung,” Jihoon hears a familiar voice say, and immediately lifts his eyes to see Seokmin walking towards him, a charmingly brilliant smile on his face.  
  
“Hey,” Jihoon greets him cheerfully, then immediately shakes his head and gives a heavy exhale.  
  
“What?” Seokmin asks before Jihoon can say anything, but he doesn’t give Seokmin the time to feel insecure.  
  
“That was amazing,” Jihoon says quickly, and the way Seokmin breaks out in a wide grin makes him feel breathless. The effects of a spotlight look good on him. He still has some makeup residue around his eyes, a rose tint to his mouth, some left over sparkles on the high of his cheeks. He looks brilliantly blinding, and Jihoon wants to praise him until he glows. “When I asked about your singing you said _a little_ and _I guess_. Seokmin, you’re incredible.”  
  
Seokmin scrunches his nose, still grinning. “Really?” he asks in a small, happy voice, his shoulders raised up into his ears.  
  
“Absolutely,” Jihoon says firmly, meeting Seokmin’s eyes properly to make him understand how much Jihoon means it. “I liked all of it, but you were just, like. So good. Took my breath away.”  
  
Seokmin’s shoulders come down and curl into himself as he reaches forward to shove Jihoon’s shoulders, embarrassed and bashful. It makes Jihoon smile, watching him grin through the compliments.  
  
“Sweet talker,” Seokmin accuses teasingly.  
  
“Am not,” Jihoon argues gently, “I’m honest.”  
  
They hold each other’s gaze, but it feels charged to Jihoon, feels like something hangs in the air between them, something he can’t quite name but thinks he has been feeling for a while now. Then Seokmin’s eyes flicker down and he finally notices the flowers in Jihoon’s arm.  
  
“What are those?” he asks softly.  
  
“Um,” Jihoon hesitates, but it’s easy to push through in the brightness of Seokmin’s light. “They’re for you,” Jihoon tells him, taking the flowers by the wrapped stems and holding them out in the space between them. “For the performance, you know?”  
  
Seokmin glances between the flowers and Jihoon once before keeping to Jihoon’s eyes. “You got me flowers?” his tone is quiet and soft, a light of shock settling in his eyes. When Jihoon nods, Seokmin’s grin softens and he smiles a smile like a secret between them, small and personal. It’s the sort of smile Jihoon would like to fold up and hold against his chest, if smiles could be folded up and held that way.  
  
“Thank you,” he says as he takes the flowers from Jihoon, holds them against his chest, and makes a breathy laughing sound as he looks down at them. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers for a show before.”  
  
Jihoon still feels flustered, but the look on Seokmin’s face, the soft and quiet way in which he looks touched, the fact that Jihoon is the first one to give him a small happiness like this, makes the slight embarrassment worth it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
On their way home, they stop for jajangmyeon at a little corner place Seokmin knows. They order inside but take their food to a little wooden picnic table out front.  
  
“When’s your next performance?” Jihoon asks as they sit down across from each other.  
  
“Tomorrow night,” Seokmin tells him. “We’ll have rehearsals in the morning and then some time in the afternoon to ‘take it easy’ before we’re back to prepare for the show, but I know I’ll probably spend the time in between practicing.”  
  
“Don’t forget to take care of your voice,” Jihoon says with a quiet hum.  
  
Seokmin makes this noise like sucking air in through his teeth and nods. “I know,” he says, “I’m sleeping with the humidifier on and drinking tea like crazy. I’m constantly having to pee.”  
  
Jihoon snorts a laugh, shaking his head. “When’s your mom coming to see you?”  
  
“Sunday night!” Seokmin says brightly, his whole face lighting up with the force of his smile. “She’s coming in early and staying through until Monday morning, so I’ll get to be with her for a little bit, at least.”  
  
“Good,” Jihoon says, quiet and earnest. “So Sunday is closing night?”  
  
Seokmin nods and pops the _p_ when he says, “Yup.”  
  
“I wish I had known how good it was gonna be beforehand,” Jihoon says thoughtfully. “I would have planned ahead so I could go another night.”  
  
“Were you not expecting it to be good?” Seokmin asks, tone teasing and lighthearted, but it still makes Jihoon laugh nervously as he shakes his head.  
  
“I didn’t really think about it before tonight,” he confesses, “but I really enjoyed myself. That one song towards the end-”  
  
“The acapella one?” Seokmin supplies before Jihoon can finish, smiling knowingly.  
  
“Yes,” Jihoon says with feeling. “I liked it so much. I kind of wish I could listen to it again.”  
  
Seokmin smiles so sweetly every time Jihoon says something nice about the show, smiles so small and bashful, it only spurs Jihoon on, makes him want to tell Seokmin every nice thing he’s ever thought about him just to see him turn so prettily shy. By some greater force, he manages to restrain himself only to praises about his performance.  
  
They leave a little after they’re done eating, but as they’re reaching the point where they should separate, Seokmin sighs softly and slows down his step.  
  
“I don’t want to go home yet,” Seokmin says when Jihon turns to look at him.  
  
“What do you wanna do?”  
  
Seokmin purses his lips and glances around him for a moment, like he’s trying to pluck some random thing for them to do out of the buildings around them. Then, his eyes light up and he turns on Jihoon one of his gentle, warm smiles. “Can we take a walk around Naksan Park?”  
  
Jihoon blinks, huffs out a breathy laugh. “You wanna walk around the park?”  
  
“Please?” Seokmin asks again, dragging the word out in a high voice, eyes pitiful in their begging.  
  
“Fine,” Jihoon sighs in defeat, turning his head away as Seokmin’s face lights up in a bright grin again. He takes Jihoon’s hand and starts tugging him towards the park entrance while Jihoon wonders when he became so weak that he’d do anything Seokmin wanted if he just asked nicely enough.  
  
“But only for a little,” Jihoon adds in, just to be difficult. “You have another big day tomorrow, you should get a proper rest.”  
  
“I’ll go to bed as soon as I get home,” Seokmin promises. Jihoon looks at him, unimpressed, but Seokmin doesn’t acknowledge him.  
  
There’s barely anyone else in the park, and Jihoon understands why. It’s not only late at night, but it’s mid December and though the weather hasn’t reached its lowest temperatures yet, their breaths are still fogging in front of them and the trees are starting to turn barren. When Jihoon looks up, he can see the night sky through the spaces between the branches and the half moon glowing above them.  
  
“I can’t even remember the last time I came here,” he tells Seokmin, absentminded and quiet. Seokmin turns to look at him, his eyes warm under the dim orange lights in the park as he smiles, slow and easy.  
  
“Aren’t you glad we’re here then?”  
  
Jihoon looks down, realizing the reason why his hand isn’t cold is because Seokmin still hasn’t let go. “I guess,” he says quietly. Seokmin looks down as well, a beat hanging between them before he seems to realize what he’s doing and suddenly drops Jihoon’s hand like it’s burned him.  
  
“Sorry,” Seokmin says gently, shyly looking away. Jihoon stares at him.  
  
“That’s okay,” he says eventually, nonchalant despite the vague feeling of disappointment he feels and how he kind of wishes Seokmin wouldn’t have noticed. “You’re not the only who does that. Soonyoung likes to hold hands too.”  
  
Seokmin doesn’t say anything, so they walk together in silence, but Jihoon doesn’t mind. The park is lit up by lamp posts consistently spaced from each other, and their soft lighting coupled with the quiet solitude of the park makes Jihoon think of sitting inside a cab with Seokmin the first night they met. Something about the air in the park has that same weight as the space inside that car, the feeling of something transitioning from one thing to another, like liminality, like standing at a precipice.  
  
“How come you wanted to come here?” Jihoon asks quietly as the path they’re on begins to curve.  
  
“Oh,” Seokmin starts, the light in his eyes changing like he’s just snapped out of some thought. “I don’t know,” he says, as quietly as Jihoon spoke, “I just thought it would be sad to end the night so soon. You got to see me all night, but I’ve only had you for a little while. This was just the closest option.”  
  
Jihoon makes a small noise of understanding and nods. “Thank you for inviting me, by the way,” he remembers to say, briefly glancing in Seokmin’s direction. “I’m glad I got to see you tonight. I kind of wish I could come again.”  
  
“No,” Seokmin shakes his head, grinning, “thank you for coming. It was nice to know there was someone supporting me in the audience. I don’t know that you’ll always like them like tonight,” he adds, “but if I get another role in the future, I’ll let you know ahead of time so you can come.”  
  
Unsuccessfully, Jihoon tries to bite back a smile as he says, “Okay,” and then quickly, “What?” because something about the way he smiles makes Seokmin pause and stare at him, eyes fluttering and softly glazed over.  
  
“Nothing,” Seokmin says quietly, looking down to stare at his feet.  
  
Jihoon feels on the edge of something, hanging off a cliff by one hand. He just wishes he knew what it was.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He ends up walking Seokmin home that night. They took one lap around Naksan Park before Jihoon declared it was time to go home, but Seokmin still looked disappointed and pouty. Jihoon hated the look on his face so much, he felt like he had no choice but to say, “Don’t make that face, come on. I’ll walk you home.”  
  
The way Seokmin’s face lit up in a bright grin and crinkled eyes was more than worth the extra fifteen minutes Jihoon would take to get home.  
  
“Okay,” Jihoon says when they get to Seokmin’s apartment complex. “You have to go home now.”  
  
Seokmin makes a face at him, pouty and petulanet as he side-eyes him. “You don’t have to say it like that,” he mumbles.  
  
“Seokminie, pretty please go home so that you can get some sleep and do even better tomorrow than you did today.”  
  
Seokmin tries to hold the same look on his face, but he cracks eventually, lips widening into a smile that curves his eyes. Jihoon wants to be annoyed with his childishness, but he ends up laughing at him anyway.  
  
“Thank you for walking me home, hyung,” Seokmin says gently, “and for the flowers.”  
  
“Don’t go to bed too late,” Jihoon says instead of acknowledging Seokmin’s words, once again feeling a little embarrassed despite himself.  
  
“Let me know when you get home, okay?” Seokmin responds in kind. Jihoon nods with a small wave of his hand and lingers back until he watches Seokmin walk into his building.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_I’m home_

**Lee Seokmin** **  
****_New Recording 2.m4a_ ** **_  
_** _Practice run I recorded for reference!_ _  
__I don’t actually know what the rules about this are so_ _  
__Maybe don’t tell anyone I let you have this?_

Jihoon gets ready for bed before he opens the audio file, so by the time he lays in bed ready to listen to it, he’s changed into sleep clothes and more than a little tired.  
  
The sound of shuffling and papers rustling opens up the audio, and then a beat of silence before Seokmin’s voice is drifting out from the speaker of Jihoon’s phone, smooth and clean and beautiful.  
  
It takes Jihoon a second to realize it’s the acapella song from the show, the one Jihoon kept telling Seokmin he liked, and as soon as he does, his heart clenches in his chest with emotion.  
  
Only Seokmin’s voice carries throughout, his quiet humming filling in his co-lead’s parts, so Jihoon figures it’s a recording from Seokmin rehearsing in his own time.  
  
There is a desperation that came from two voices so wound together in longing missing from the recording, but instead it’s replaced with a calming sweetness that makes Jihoon feel dazed and fuzzy, every thought in his head clearing away until his mind is a blank room filled only with the echo of Seokmin’s voice against the walls of his apartment through the audio from his phone.  
  
Jihoon means to respond to Seokmin, means to tell him how nice of him that was, and thank you, but he needs to listen to it one more time, and then one more time again, and before he knows it, Jihoon is falling asleep with Seokmin’s voice in his ears and looped in his head.  
  


* * *

  
Sunday afternoon, Jihoon gets a message from Seokmin while he’s at work.  
  
Jihoon is alone in the studio while Beomju is in the recording room with someone when he sees the screen of his phone light up with a notification. He leans over to see who it’s from, then quickly slides it open when he realizes it’s from Seokmin.  
  
It’s a selfie. Seokmin is wearing a white t-shirt and a black cap, but he already has his stage makeup on, which Jihoon didn’t get to appreciate from a distance when he went to see Seokmin’s show. His eyebrows look a little ridiculous, Jihoon thinks as he hufs out a laugh, but the dark makeup around his eyes and the red tint on his lips makes him look a little dangerous. He’s standing on the stage, his back to the empty seats, and he’s smiling for the camera. The picture is accompanied by a short message from Seokmin, a simple _Closing night!!!_ that Jihoon can almost hear in Seokmin’s bright, excited voice.  
  
Unwittingly, Jihoon smiles at his phone, looks at the picture for a little longer than he cares to admit.  
  
On a whim, he opens up his own front camera and takes a picture of himself from the shoulders up, hair swept back from all the times he’s run his hand through it, and face mask still on because he never took it off when he got to the studio.  
  
 _Good luck!_ Jihoon sends with the picture. He keeps his phone on and watches the screen, waiting to see if Seokmin will respond. A moment passes, and then the three dots come up on Seokmin’s side of the chat, there and gone once Seokmin sends two matching heart emojis.  
  
If Jihoon’s heart flutters in his chest and he saves Seokmin’s selfie to his camera roll, then, well. No one has to know about it.  
  


* * *

 **  
**A week later, Jihoon is spending another Sunday night at the studio. He’s been there since ten in the morning, actually, but it’s not until near the end of his shift that Beomju comes to talk to him about the latest song Jihoon has sent him.  
  
“I listened to the audio file you sent me a few days ago,” he says as he comes to sit down beside Jihoon. At this time of night, when they’re not busy working with an artist, things start to slow down, their work consisting more of organizing things for the next day. Jihoon is categorizing folders on the desktop and putting dates and artists’ initials on files to make them easier to find.  
  
“Yeah?” Jihoon hums, noncommittal and distracted.  
  
“It was really good,” Beomju says, and Jihoon can see him nodding from his peripheral. “Actually, I think it’s your best work yet. I was thinking of pitching it to an artist, see if they wanted it.”  
  
The sound of Jihoon’s mouse clicking and dragging across the pad stops suddenly. A heavy, charged silence fills the room. Jihoon feels like he stops breathing and it’s so quiet, he thinks his heart might have stopped, too.  
  
“Dude,” Jihoon whispers gravely as he finally turns to look at Beomju. “Don’t fuck with me.”  
  
Beomju laughs at him breathlessly, and he shakes his head as he lowers it. “I wouldn’t fuck with you about music, Jihoon-ah.”  
  
“My song?” Jihoon says, just to clarify. When Beomju nods, he tries again, “The last song I sent you? The,” and he hums the melody of the song, to which Beomju nods, still laughing at him. “That song?”  
  
“Yeah, the last song you sent me, that one.”  
  
Jihoon makes a sound like something between a huff and a laugh, and grins, still staring at Beomju in disbelief.  
  
“I mean,” Jihoon splutters, blinking hard. “Why that song?” He asks, remembering himself. “Like, why is this one better than the old ones?”  
  
Beomju makes a noise through his teeth, quirks his head to the side. Jihoon feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin.  
  
“Honestly,” Beomju starts, eyebrows raise, “I cried a little bit listening to it for the first time.”  
  
Jihoon tries to make some casual, noncommittal sound, but he chokes on air and has to cough into his hand. Beomju laughs at him, pats his shoulder briefly.  
  
“Aren’t you embarrassed admitting something like that?” Jihoon says through a hard breath.  
  
Beomju laughs at him. “I would have, but I’ve seen you get weepy over a NAUL song, so I figured I was okay.”  
  
Jihoon nods, purses his lips. “Yeah, uh,” he stammers, “that’s fair, okay.”  
  
Again, Beomju laughs at him, amusement in his eyes as he nods and leans back in his chair. “You’re very good at expressing emotions,” he tells Jihoon sincerely, “I respect that about your work. I just think this song felt more honest, a little raw. Personal. It’s good,” he insists at Jihoon’s wide eyed stare. “You do it well. Not forced. You make it easy to relate to the song, even if it’s not personal to _me_ .”  
  
Jihoon feels embarrassed, all of a sudden, to hear his work being talked about like this instead of in a critical form, feels a little seen into. He still nods, just to show Beomju he understands.  
  
They close up together that night and part ways. Jihoon walks alone to the subway station.  
  
On the ride to Hyehwa Station, he realizes how exciting this is, to have an artist listen to _his_ song, regardless of whether they choose to use it or not. It feels like the first big step in his career, a pivotal moment he wants to engrave in his memory for sentimentality, so he can always think back to the way he feels right now.  
  
He doesn’t really think about the song itself until much later, after he’s arrived home and had dinner. He brings his laptop out of his room and holds it on his lap while he lays down on the couch. He constantly sends Beomju a lot of songs, with the purpose of Beomju pointing out things he should fix or work out, to be a better producer and composer. He doesn’t always think about what Beomju might be hearing in his song, what feelings he’s putting out in the open without realizing it.  
  
He started the melody for this song the night he came back from Seokmin’s place, he remembers that, after they got caught in the rain together. He was still wearing Seokmin’s sweatshirt, too lazy to shower, too distracted by the music running through his head. He had most of the song done by midnight, but he didn’t start writing lyrics for it until a few days after.  
  
Finding the right words to express what he was feeling, the emotions he wanted to put to music, had been hard. He remembers spending a day or two writing and rewriting the lyrics, remembers feeling like he wouldn’t be able to properly convey what he wanted to say, remembers feeling upset and frustrated, but then Seokmin called him that one night, and they spent a little over an hour on the phone.  
  
Jihoon remembers the way he felt flushed to his collarbones after having the sound of Seokmin’s voice right next to his ears for so long, and that he felt so fluttery and light afterwards, he thought he might float away into the clouds. He remembers not wanting to go to sleep, too overwhelmed with all he was feeling at once, but when he sat down to work on the lyrics for this song, it suddenly came to him easily, with the breathy sound of Seokmin’s laugh over the phone still ringing through his ears.  
  
It’s around the fifth time he’s listened to the song when Jihoon understands and with such startling clarity thinks _Oh._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm still standing in the same place where you left me standing. I am easy to find" (-The National)

_“Or rain, our bodies wet,_ _  
_ _clothes clinging arm to elbow, clothes clinging_ _  
_ _nipple to groin - I’ll be right here. I’m waiting.”_ _  
_ _  
_ -Richard Siken, “Saying Your Names” from _Crush_.

Jihoon doesn’t panic.  
  
In fact, the first immediate thought he has after _Oh, I’m in love with Seokmin_ , is that he’s a fool for not having realized it sooner.   
  
Of course someone like Jihoon would fall for someone like Seokmin.   
  
Someone like Jihoon, who has smooth, hard surfaces to his exterior and a hard time getting along with people at first. Jihoon, with all his secret pockets of yearning and his greedy heart. Jihoon, who easily gets overwhelmed by his own emotions and by a longing he can never voice. Jihoon, who is so drawn to a tender kind of beauty that Seokmin so easily embodies.   
  
Someone like Seokmin, who is kind and earnest in a way no one else Jihoon knows is. Seokmin, who is gentle and has the softest heart out of anyone Jihoon has ever met. Seokmin, who thinks of others easily, who laughs easily, even at Jihoon’s dry jokes. Seokmin, who makes Jihoon laugh, who never pushes or demands, who holds Jihoon’s hands so tenderly without meaning to. Someone like Seokmin, who is open and trusting, who radiates positivity despite the doubts he keeps to himself.   
  
Seokmin, who is probably the easiest person in the world to fall in love with, and Jihoon, who fell as easily and as softly as the leaves fall away from the tree in autumn.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jihoon goes to bed early that night, and because he’s weak and absolutely ridiculous, he allows himself a moment of indulgence where he plays Seokmin’s recording of the song from his show after he plugs in his phone for the night. He falls asleep with Seokmin’s voice softly drifting through the dark of Jihoon’s bedroom and settling into Jihoon’s heart.   
  


* * *

  
On Monday morning, Jihoon gets up as he usually would. He goes to the gym for an hour, then comes back to his apartment to shower, and when he realizes he doesn’t need to be at the studio until after twelve, he goes back out to run errands before his shift.   
  
He stops to pick up new notepads first, because he noticed he was starting to run out of pages a few days ago, as well as a new pack of the pen brand he recently got attached to. When he walks out of the store, a gust of cold wind blows against his face and slips through the fabric of his clothes, sends shivers up his spine.   
  
December came and went, leaving an even colder January in its departure. It’s odd, because Jihoon feels like his birthday was just a few days ago, not weeks. He wonders if he’s really been busy enough for time to fly away from him.   
  
It’s cold out even during the day, but there’s a pale, bright sun in the sky that makes standing under patches of shade feel a lot colder. Jihoon glances up at the sky and, inevitably, thinks of Seokmin.   
  
He keeps thinking of him as he makes his way through the supermarket, while he picks up items from the grocery list he keeps on his phone. Whenever he runs out of something at home, he takes a checkmark off until he can go get more of it again.   
  
Seokmin sits at the back of his mind like the idea of sun rays in the winter, quietly present. A carton of milk in his shopping cart is accompanied by the faint memory of Seokmin sitting across from him with a cup of boba tea at the coffee shop. Jihoon walks by the frozen food aisle and vaguely thinks of the frozen pizzas in Seokmin’s fridge. Picking up packets of bibim noodles from the shelves reminds him of the taste of warm jajangmyeon noodles on a cold night in the back of Jihoon’s mouth, Seokmin’s bright eyes under the lights scattered around Naksan Park.   
  
When Jihoon is in the medicine aisle looking for the aspirin he usually gets, a box of manuka honey and ginger lozenges put Seokmin at the forefront of his mind. It’s a small, silly thing, he thinks, but it’s what makes him think of Seokmin the most, for some reason. He remembers reminding Seokmin to take care of his voice during his active performance days, and he can’t help but think of how worried Seokmin was a few days before the first night, and how a tired throat can make that sort of stress worse.   
  
At the same time that Jihoon decides to get the lozenges and give them to Seokmin the next time he sees him, he decides he won’t tell Seokmin about his feelings. There is no reason to, after all. The truth is, Seokmin hasn’t done anything to make Jihoon think that he might even be interested in him as anything more than friends, and it would be rude and impolite of Jihoon to press where he shouldn’t.   
  
The bigger truth is, there is a small seed of fear in his chest that Jihoon refuses to acknowledge. This has the potential to hurt him, even if Seokmin would never hurt him intentionally, he might not be able to help it anyway. It’s a sort of pain Jihoon doesn’t feel ready to face and pretending the possibility of it is not there at all feels easier, for now.   
  
The last thing he picks up before paying is a few packets of instant rice, and then Jihoon goes home again.   
  


* * *

  
Jihoon has a slow, normal, easy week until Thursday morning, when he wakes up feeling oddly irritated.   
  
The sound of his alarm jerks him out of sleep and Jihoon hisses an angry, fierce _Shut up_ as he stretches his arm out from under the sheets to grab his phone and turn the sound off. He sighs at the silence that follows, the buzzing of electronics humming across his apartment, and decides that he very much does not want to do today.   
  
But he does anyway. He gets out of bed, gets in the shower, and gets ready for the day. He has a rehearsal from nine to eleven that he arrives to fifteen minutes early because he has the time, and because he thinks maybe if he can sit in the quiet of an orchestra room with no one around, he might calm down.   
  
It works for a little bit, until the rest of the musicians start arriving in small groups and the sound of chattering starts to grate against Jihoon’s ears, the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor making him bounce his leg up and down. He’s not even sure why he’s so edgy today, when Jihoon stops to think about it. He doesn’t feel like he didn’t get enough sleep. He doesn’t have any extra, inconvenient tasks to get through today. Maybe he’s hungry, he thinks as he watches the conductor wave his arms around.   
  
The rehearsal lasts two hours, and as Jihoon is walking out of the building, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket and quickly tugs it out to look.   
  
**Seungcheol-hyung** **  
**_I have time to go out for lunch today_ _  
_ _You guys wanna meet up at that one sandwich place?_   
  
Jihoon sends a sticker of two thumbs up as he walks in the direction of said sandwich place. He knows which one Seungcheol is referring to because once they all graduated and started living in the city and working, they picked out one place that was a sort of halfway point for them to meet at whenever they had time. He stares at his screen until Soonyoung sends a positive response as well, then tucks his phone back into his pocket.   
  
It takes him about fifteen minutes to walk to the sandwich place, but Soonyoung and Seungcheol are already there when he arrives. Jihoon takes one quick glance around the place before he finds them seated at a little booth on the left.   
  
Seungcheol and Soonyoung both greet him as he takes his clarinet case off his back and sits down beside Seungcheol, and for a little bit, sitting with his best friends at their usual place makes Jihoon feel calm and at ease, until he realizes Soonyoung is gossiping.   
  
“Did you know Jiwoo and Sooyoung are dating?” Soonyoung asks them with wide eyes. Jihoon stares at him.   
  
“Soonyoung, they only started telling people three days ago,” Seungcheol says, “I only know because Hannie is one of the people they made a point of telling. How do _you_ know that?”   
  
“I can’t tell you that, but trust, I always know everything,” Soonyoung says with a toothy grin. “But! I’ve known Jiwoo for months, how did I not know she was gay?”   
  
“I think it’s impressive you can claim to know everything and then prove you know nothing in the same breath,” Jihoon says, tone flat and disinterested. “How could you _not_ know she’s gay?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Soonyoung mumbles, “it never came up in conversation.”   
  
“I’m not sure how polite it is to be discussing someone else’s sexuality and relationship when they’re not here,” Jihoon says just as their server comes to greet them at their table.   
  
“I do want to know how you find out these things,” Seungcheol says after they order and their menus are taken away. “Jiwoo and Sooyoung aren’t even in our immediate circle. “   
  
“Excuse me,” Soonyoung starts, offended. “Sooyoung and I are very close.”   
  
“Just because you think you have the same name doesn’t mean you guys are close,” Jihoon reminds him.   
  
“One letter off, Hoonie! _And_ ,” Soonyoung adds with feeling, “We’re both Geminis! What are the odds!”   
  
“More likely than you think, clearly,” Jihoon says.   
  
“Oh no,” Soonyoung tsks, “I think our Jihoonie is in a sour mood,” he says, and then reaches forward to boop Jihoon’s nose. Jihoon makes an annoyed sound and smacks his hand away.   
  
“Am not,” Jihoon huffs, even though he is, but he doesn’t like Soonyoung’s cooing, patronizing tone that makes him feel like a small child.   
  
Seungcheol mercifully steers the conversation away to tell them about how serious his household is taking the whole paganism thing, his household of course meaning Jeonghan and Joshua.   
  
“It’s like, our Sunday couple’s activity,” Seungcheol explains to them, “Shua makes us coffee and we laze around the living room and pick a topic to read about, but we’re really into this pagan stuff right now.”   
  
“That’s cute,” Soonyoung hums and Jihoon looks at him. “Mine and Wonowoo’s couple’s activity is sex.”   
  
Jihoon scrunches his nose up. He is _not_ in the mood to hear Soonyoung’s sex-with-Wonwoo talk. And here he thought they had moved past this point.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Half an hour later, the three of them are parting ways in front of the sandwich place. Jihoon walks to the studio straight after and arrives a few minutes earlier than he usually would.   
  
For the first few hours, Jihoon keeps busy. Beomju leaves a few things for him to do before he heads to the recording studio with some other kid he’s voice coaching, and Jihoon works through the tasks in peaceful quiet, appreciating the unweighted silence around the studio.   
  
By three o’clock, Jihoon starts to grow a little antsy again.   
  
He keeps looking for things to keep him occupied. He goes through all the files on the main studio computer again, even though he just went through those a few nights ago. When Jihoon stops to remember that night, he ends up thinking about Seokmin again, and his thoughts linger there for a while.   
  
Jihoon had always thought he was pretty self aware. He’s someone who doesn’t have too many opinions; he’s a little particular about some things, but he isn’t picky. He likes to think that he knew himself pretty well. He doesn’t know how he let falling in love with someone slip under his nose.   
  
Maybe it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t notice, Jihoon thinks as he starts the coffee machine in the break room. He and Seokmin are good friends first, after all, and sometimes it’s hard to distinguish when platonic fondness turns into infatuated awe, turns into the kind of affection accompanied by fierce longing.   
  
Jihoon always knew he found Seokmin attractive, but he knows attraction isn’t enough to fall in love with someone. He thinks Hansol is good looking, but he isn’t about to start writing love songs about Hansol, especially considering that Seungkwan would literally kill him.   
  
Seokmin and Jihoon were friends first, they _are_ friends, and maybe Jihoon let himself get too comfortable. Maybe he let his guard down a little more than he intended to, let Seokmin get through one too many defenses and barriers, and without realizing it, let himself get too fond of Seokmin’s warmth and his overflowing optimism.   
  
_Fond_ is too simple of a word for it. Jihoon opens the cupboard to take out some mugs and thinks about how he’s fond of the blue mug with the chip on the handle that isn’t his, but that everyone in the studio knows he always uses. He’s fond of street cats he meets on his way home sometimes, and of the way Soonyoung used to leave him sticky notes in their college dorm when he left before Jihoon was awake. What he feels for Seokmin is more complicated. There’s a word for what he feels for Seokmin, but not words to describe the way the feeling makes him feel.   
  
Jihoon’s feelings for Seokmin make him all tangled up and warm in the face, make him feel soft and a little short of breath.   
  
The problem, Jihoon realizes as he starts pouring hot coffee into three separate mugs, is that he knows Seokmin. He knows things about Seokmin that he didn’t mean to learn about but acquired by spending time with him, and things he only remembers because he _cares_ . He knows which colors Seokmin likes to use when he highlights scripts and about the books he carries on the shelf in his apartment and that they both have the same Baek Yerin album. He knows what Seokmin sounds like when he’s trying to muffle his laugh in a crowded train and what he sounds like late at night through the phone when nerves and insecurity are getting the better of him. He knows that Seokmin folds his pizza slices in half like a taco, which Jihoon doesn’t get, but finds a little endearing when Seokmin does it, and he knows that Seokmin will sometimes sip his drink when he still has food in his mouth.   
  
The bigger problem is that Jihoon knows all of this and more, and he’d still like to learn more things about Seokmin. He doesn’t think he will get tired of learning things about Seokmin. It’s that when he thinks about the little things that make Seokmin who he is, Jihoon starts to feel a lot like flowers bloom in his chest and take root before they stretch up, tangle around his heart, and grow until they settle at the back of his throat.   
  
God, he thinks as he brings coffee to the recording studio. He doesn’t even know what that means. He just knows he feels dazed, light and fluttery like flower petals when he thinks about Seokmin. That he feels like the first warm rays of sunlight in the spring when he’s with Seokmin, calid and gentle and at ease. He doesn’t get tired of being with Seokmin, of hearing him talk. He’s starting to think he never will.   
  
Jihoon slips in the recording studio with quiet feet. The kid’s in the sound booth while Beomju talks to him from the panel. Jihoon keeps quiet as he steps around Beomju to put the two coffee mugs down on the table beside him, away from all the expensive music equipment.   
  
“Hey,” Beomju says quietly. Jihoon looks up, realizing he’s talking to him.   
  
The truth is, making and bringing coffee is not part of Jihoon’s job, not anymore anyway, but he thinks he’ll go a little batshit crazy if he stays still for too long.   
  
“Hey,” Jihoon says back, just as quiet.   
  
“You alright, kid?” Beomju asks with just the slightest hint of concern on his face. Jihoon wonders what his face looks like right now.   
  
He says, “Yeah,” and nods to the extra cup of coffee. “That’s for the other kid. Do you have anything else you need me to do?”   
  
Beomju glances down at the mugs before he shakes his head. “Not for now. Why don’t you try working on some new projects? Just for practice.”   
  
Jihoon holds back a sigh. Even as he nods and leaves to go do as he’s told, he thinks about how it’s the first time he’s felt like he wants to kill Beomju, just a little bit.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
He gets home a little after eight, somehow feeling both exhausted and worked up. He changes out of his normal person clothes and spends a couple of minutes pacing around his kitchen and staring blankly into his fridge before he decides to order in from the place across the street with the budae jjigae he likes.   
  
After his food arrives, he sits in front of the TV and puts on something he’s already seen while he eats, so he doesn’t have to exert any more brain power.   
  
Other than the sound from the TV, Jihoon’s apartment is quiet and still. The silence settles him down, his annoyance ebbing away from him in calm waves, but it leaves behind a slow feeling of vague sadness, a melancholy he can’t find reason for. It wasn’t a particularly bad day, but he still feels shitty about it. Sometimes you just have days like that.   
  
He cleans up after he finishes his dinner but comes back to sit on the couch, knees bent close to his chest. He’s seen this movie enough times to know what’s going on even when he’s not paying too much attention, but he’s also seen it enough times to have lost interest in it at all. The only reason he doesn’t turn it off is because he doesn’t have anything else to do, and the sound of people talking on the screen makes him feel less like he’s by himself.   
  
The sound of Jihoon’s phone buzzing against the top of his coffee table catches his attention, and he leans forward to look at the screen and continues to stare once he realizes it’s Seokmin calling.   
  
Unless he missed his message, Seokmin doesn’t text him first like he did the last time he called him on the phone. Jihoon’s heart does a silly little nervous flip in his chest, a little surprised.   
  
For some reason he considers hanging up, but then he realizes he’s taking so long to answer, the call might drop anyway, and that sends a shock of panic through him that has him fumbling for his phone and hastily answering before he can think about it.   
  
“Hello,” Jioon greets, but then immediately has to clear his throat when it comes out weird and broken in the middle.   
  
“Hi,” Seokmin says back with an airy laugh, “you okay?”   
  
“Yeah, just,” he pauses, unsure of an excuse to make up, and ends up dropping his forehead into the palm of his hand and shaking his head, disappointed with himself. “Nothing. Hi.”   
  
“Hi,” Seokmin says again, and he sounds like he’s smiling. “Are you busy, hyung?”   
  
“Um, no, not really. I’m slowing down for the night,” Jihoon tells him as he reaches forward to pause the movie. “What’s up?”   
  
“Nothing,” Seokmin says softly. “I just. Feel like I haven’t talked to you for a bit, I wanted to hear from you a little.”   
  
He says it so kindly, with no note of accusation in his voice at all, it melts Jihoon’s heart.   
  
Seokmin is right, though. The last time they saw each other was the night Jihoon went to Seokmin’s show, because the Saturday after that Seokmin was at a last minute rehearsal before his show and couldn’t go to lunch with them, and the Saturday after that, Jihoon had been at orchestra rehearsals.   
  
Still, Jihoon blames himself for them not talking as much. He knows they haven’t been able to see each other because they have both been busy, but the last time they even texted was the Sunday of Seokmin’s closing night. Jihoon could have made the effort to message him more often, now that he thinks about it. It was Seokmin who texted first last time, and the one who called Jihoon tonight, just like he did last time they spoke on the phone.   
  
It’s not like Jihoon didn’t think about it. He did. He thinks of Seokmin often enough as it is without developing an awareness of his feelings for him, and now that Jihoon has that too, he thinks about Seokmin more than not. He thinks about him while he’s on the train home from work, gets distracted by thoughts of him while Jihoon is at the studio, or working on music. He’s listened to the audio file Seokmin sent him at least once every day since the night of his show. Jihoon thinks about Seokmin a lot.   
  
But every time he thought about messaging Seokmin, he chickened out. That was a cute little bonus that came with realizing he was in love with Seokmin. He found himself being more reluctant, or feeling more embarrassed than he used to. Every time he opened up KKT or his messages with Seokmin, he would overthink what to say so much that he ended up throwing the entire idea out the window.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Jihoon says quietly. “I guess I let myself get a little caught up with work and stuff.”   
  
“No, that’s okay,” Seokmin says quickly, kindly. “I understand, I wasn’t, like. Trying to get you to apologize or anything. How’s work going?” he asks after a pause.   
  
“Good,” Jihoon says, pitching his voice down to something soft and low. “Actually, um. Bumzu-hyung really likes this one song I wrote. He says he might pitch it to an artist.”   
  
Seokmin makes a high, excited noise over the phone line. “Seriously?” he gasps. “That’s great! Does that mean your song could get released?”   
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon says softly, leaning back to rest his head over the back of the couch. “I mean, it might not happen, it might not get picked up by anyone, but I think just the fact that other artists will be hearing it is exciting for me.”   
  
“Don’t say that,” Seokmin chides him gently, “you can’t be negative off the bat, think of what you’ll be manifesting out into the universe.”   
  
“You sound like Seungkwan,” Jihoon cuts in, feels himself vaguely frown. “Were you with Seungkwan?”   
  
“I went out to lunch with him today,” Seokmin confesses hastily. “Not the point, though.”   
  
“It would be nice if someone took the song,” Jihoon admits quietly. He used to think it would be nice if someone took any of his songs, but now he thinks it would be nice if this were his first to be released. Beomju was right in saying this was his best work so far, Jihoon recognizes that, but he also recognizes the sentimental reasons he has for feeling attached to the song now. He doesn’t tell Seokmin any of that. Instead, he says, “You know how you can, like. Have moments in your life where you might feel more accomplished? Like, when it seems like things are falling into place and you understand why it took this long or why you had to do all the things you did before to get to that point?”   
  
Seokmin is quiet on his end for a moment, either making sure Jihoon is finished or considering his words, Jihoon’s not sure, but then, quietly, he says, “Yeah, I think I do.”   
  
“And then,” Jihoon goes on, staring at the ceiling fan light over his head, “there’s the moment before it, you know? Like before the accomplishment and the falling into place, there’s like. The moment where you think you might be getting there, like you’re standing at a threshold but can’t quite get the door open yet.”   
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin says again, gently, maybe just to let Jihoon know he’s still following and listening. Jihoon appreciates that.   
  
“That’s what this feels like,” Jihoon tells him. “I haven’t minded being an apprentice for the amount of time I have, I do think I’ve learned a lot, and I like Bumzu-hyung. But this just feels like I’m finally about to do something for myself, I guess”   
  
“I get that,” Seokmin says, and there’s a shifting sound over the phone that makes Jihoon think he’s nodding.   
  
“You do?” Jihoon asks gently as he takes his phone in his other hand when he feels it start to slip from his fingers.   
  
“I think so,” Seokmin says quietly. Jihoon likes the way he sounds like this, he thinks he always likes Seokmin’s voice, even when he’s being loud and it makes him laugh, but he likes it like this, quiet and breathy through the phone, makes Jihoon feel like he’s lost in a haze of Seokmin’s voice, like his voice slithers into his ears in wisps of smoke and settles in, clouds all of Jihoon’s thoughts until all he can think about is Seokmin.   
  
“I think when I got my first call back for a lead,” Seokmin says, “it kind of felt like that. Kind of like it wasn’t real and I was living through a dream. But I was also a lot more scared and nervous, because the possibility of having it in my hands made me want it more.”   
  
“Exactly,” Jihoon breathes. “Exactly.”   
  
“I hope someone picks up your song, hyung,” Soekmin says, sounds like he means it. Jihoon never feels like Seokmin doesn’t mean the things he says, but he sounds so earnest about this, it makes his heart soft and weak. “I think you deserve it.”   
  
“Thank you,” Jihoon says, touched, and then, “what are you doing?”   
  
“Nothing,” Seokmin sighs. “I’m in bed. I finished a movie on my laptop, and then I remembered I hadn’t talked to you in a bit, so I thought I’d call.”   
  
The image of Seokmin horizontal immediately flashes through Jihoon’s head. He thinks of Seokmin in worn, soft sleep clothes and the way his hair might poof over his pillow, thinks of him slow and relaxed from being in bed, and feels his face heat up, feels a little scandalized with himself even though he hasn’t thought of anything less innocuous than Seokmin about to go to sleep. This, right here, would be how he’d know he’s fucked if he wasn’t already so acutely aware of that.   
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says after Jihoon has been quiet for a while, and Jihoon hums in response as he gets up from the couch and starts turning off the lights and the TV. “Can I listen to your song?”   
  
Jihoon pauses inside his bedroom, brain completely empty of any thought whatsoever. “Um,” he says stupidly.   
  
“Please?” Seokmin says sweetly, drawing out the word, and Jihoon realizes how incapable of saying no to Seokmin he really is, because he immediately wants to give in.   
  
“Maybe,” Jihoon caves, rolling his eyes at himself as he lifts his duvet one handed and lays in bed. “I’ll think about it.”   
  
“I’ll take it,” Seokmin says immediately. “Do you think you could think about it before your song gets released though? So I can have special privilege and listen to it before.”   
  
“ _If_ it gets released,” Jihoon reminds him, but he's smiling despite himself.   
  
“It _will_ ,” Seokmin insists gently. “I’ll manifest it into the universe. Positive thoughts only.”   
  
“Good vibes only,” Jihoon says, in his best impression of Hansol’s deep, happy voice, grinning at his bedroom ceiling when he hears Seokmin laugh over the phone. “Don’t let Seungkwan start teaching you about astrology,” Jihoon says a little pleadingly.   
  
“Too late,” Seokmin responds softly. “Uranus is the day ruling planet of Aquarius. I’m also a Pisces cusp, but Seungkwanie says cusps aren’t real if you know all the details of your birth because astrology has exact mathematical points, but then he started saying some really complicated things and I stopped understanding.”   
  
Jihoon laughs, all too familiar with Seungkwan’s astrology rants. “Did he tell you about your natal chart?”   
  
“I didn’t know at what time I was born, so he couldn’t do all of it and just told me the stuff that would match Hansolie’s. Hey, aren’t you a cusp, too?”   
  
Jihoon switches phone hands and turns on his side, nodding against his pillow. He’s starting to feel slow and fuzzy, lulled by the soft, smooth sound of Seokmin’s voice, his laugh in Jihoon’s ears. “Yeah, a Scorpio cusp, but I’m a Sagittarius. Seungkwan tried to do my natal chart once at a party but I refuse to let him have so much perception into my personality.”   
  
Seokmin laughs, quiet and breathy. “So you believe in it then?”   
  
“Of course I do,” Jihoon says, no hesitation. “Who am I to say that stuff isn’t real. I just don’t want to give Seungkwan that much power over me.”   
  
It makes Seokmin laugh again and despite himself, Jihoon smiles at the sound.   
  
“You know,” Jihoon says, soft and quiet, like he might disturb the tender, fuzzy feeling of talking over the phone in hushed voices, like he might rattle the feeling of calm comfort in his chest. “I was kind of irritated all day, but. Now that I’m talking to you, I feel better. Lighter.”   
  
A quiet pause in which Jihoon can hear the faint sound of Seokmin’s breathing follows Jihoon’s words. Then, Seokmin says “Really?” in a sweet, breathy voice. Jihoon nods.   
  
“Yeah,” he breathes. “You’re like, magic.”   
  
“Oh,” Seokmin says quietly, in a small voice, and then, “I’m glad I called you, then. I’m glad I could make you feel better.”   
  
“Me too,” Jihoon says, means it.   
  
“How was your day?” Seokmin asks after another quiet, comfortable pause. “I mean, how come you were irritated?”   
  
Jihoon shrugs the shoulder he isn’t resting on and stares at the surface of his bed across from him where his sheets are rumpled. “I don’t know. No reason, I guess. I had a long day, but not a bad one. I did get to have lunch with Seungcheol-hyung and Kwon Soonyoung, though,” Jihoon adds, remembering that was today even if it already feels like it happened a week ago. “We don’t get to do that often anymore, cause Seungcheol-hyung’s at the school and stuff.”   
  
“Wait,” Seokmin says through a soft and airy laugh that makes Jihoon close his eyes as he tries to commit the sound to memory. “Why did you say Soonyoungie-hyung’s name like that?”   
  
“What, Kwon Soonyoung?” Jihoon asks, then goes on after Seokmin breathes out a quick _Yeah_ . “I’m upset at him,” Jihoon says easily. “Not like actually, but I was in a bad mood and he was being ridiculous. I kind of wanted to hit him every time he opened his mouth.”   
  
“You didn’t actually hit him, did you?” Seokmin whispers.   
  
“Only a little. He booped my nose so I smacked his hand.”   
  
“Soonyoungie-hyung is sensitive, hyung, don’t be mean to him,” Seokmin says. Jihoon doesn’t know if he meant to sound chiding, but he only sounds fond and amused to Jihoon. He opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a yawn.   
  
“Are you tired?” Seokmin asks after he hears him. Jihoon nods again as he pulls his blankets up to his chin.   
  
“Yeah, I guess I am.”   
  
“Do you want me to hang up? So you can go to sleep,” Seokmin asks, but Jihoon shakes his head, impulsive.   
  
“No,” Jihoon answers. “Actually, do you mind staying on the line with me? Just until I fall asleep.”   
  
Seokmin pauses before he says, “Yeah, of course,” followed by the sound of rustling that sounds like sheets dragging against fabric, and Jihoon wonders if Seokmin is settling into bed.   
  
“How was your day, Seokminie?” Jihoon asks, because he wants to hear about Seokmin’s day, but also to keep him talking. He shouldn’t, he already knows this can hurt him, but his heart feels greedy anyway. He wants Seokmin’s gentle, smooth voice in his ears as he falls asleep, wonders if it will make him dream of Seokmin. He hopes so.   
  
“It was good,” Seokmin responds. “I had a shift at ten, and I met up with Seungkwanie for lunch because our breaks matched up. We went to this cafe that was a halfway point between my work and his, but I don’t remember what it was called,” he laughs softly, just a small huffing sound that makes Jihoon think of the way the wind blows through trees in the spring, but that might just be his sleep addled brain talking. “I worked until four,” Seokmin goes on, “and I stopped by that bookstore near the movie theatre? Do you know the one?”   
  
Jihoon hums assertively. “The one with the glass windows,” he says in recognition, words too strung together.   
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin says brightly, “yeah, I went there to pick up a book I’ve been wanting to read.”   
  
“What book?” Jihoon asks quietly before Seokmin can go on, the sleepy haze he is in that makes him lower his guard and forget his limitations making him needy and desperate for new pieces of Seokmin that he can hold to his chest, parts of his day that he can’t have but wants to share anyway.   
  
“ _Under the Udala Trees_ ,” Seokmin answers gently, voice low and breathy. “Do you know it?”   
  
“No,” Jihoon hums, “what’s it about?”   
  
Seokmin starts to tell him, but Jihoon is already starting to drift off. He catches a line or two of what Seokmin says, maybe even something about the description of the book cover, but Jihoon falls asleep quickly after that, Seokmin’s voice slipping into the hidden corners of his head and spreading all through Jihoon’s body like a wave of comfort that warms him up from the inside, out.   
**  
******

* * *

**  
****Lee Seokmin**   
_Hyung_   
_What time do you have to be at the studio tomorrow?_ _  
_ _  
_ Jihoon is spending a quiet Sunday night in when Seokmin messages him. He turns his phone where it’s laying on his stomach and stares at the screen for a moment.

_Not until 12_ _  
_ _Why?_

**Lee Seokmin** **  
**_I was thinking of getting breakfast tomorrow_ _  
_ _But I don’t really wanna go by myself_ _  
_ _Do you want to come with me?_

Jihoon’s stomach flutters. He didn’t even know his stomach could do that. He could almost laugh at himself. It’s not like he’s short of spending time alone with Seokmin. Just yesterday, they took the train together after lunch and were relatively alone, if he didn’t count the other subway riders, and after that they walked to Naksan Park together before they both went home.  
  
And yet, Jihoon’s greedy heart can’t help but feel excited and fluttery at the prospect of being invited anywhere alone with Seokmin. Jihoon won’t ever tell anyone.

_Sure_ _  
_ _When and where?_

**Lee Seokmin**   
_Really?_ _  
_ _I was planning on going to the usual cafe_ _  
_ _Does 9 sound ok?_

_9 sounds good_ _  
_ _See you tomorrow_

Seokmin sends a sticker of a little cartoon shooting hearts from its hands and Jihoon has to stop himself from responding with something embarrassing. If he smiles at his screen, fond and endeared, well there’s no one in his apartment to witness and hold it against him.  
  
He stays up for a while longer, finishes the movie he was already watching before he gets ready for bed. He stands in the middle of his room for a while, convinced there’s something he should do but for the life of him can’t think of what it is. He looks at his closet and tells himself it would be responsible of him to pick out his clothes for the next day, to save time in the morning, even though it’s not something Jihoon has ever done.   
  
There’s no orchestra rehearsal tomorrow, so all Jihoon will have for the day is hours at the studio. He usually dresses pretty casually for that, jeans and a hoodie, jeans and a sweatshirt, jeans and a t-shirt under flannel. Sometimes he doesn’t even brush his hair after waking up and shoves it under a baseball cap.   
  
Jihoon can’t admit to himself he wants to look nice because he’s seeing Seokmin. It’s silly. He sees Seokmin all the time. He saw him yesterday and all Jihoon wore to lunch was a bomber jacket over his shirt. He wore a face mask and a cap too, and when he and Seokmin got there at the same time, Seokmin grinned at him and leaned down to find Jihoon’s eyes under the brim of his cap. _Where’s your face, hyung?_ he had asked as he smiled at Jihoon and tugged the cap brim up with his finger. The proximity and the fondness in Seokmin’s face had made Jihoon so embarrassed, he had to keep his mask on until his face didn’t feel so warm.   
  
For a moment, Jihoon considers messaging Seungcheol and Soonyoung on their sub group-chat, but then he remembers the pain in the ass that was last time and he forgets about the whole thing. They might make him show up in his flowy floral button up, and that’s an opposite extreme Jihoon doesn’t want to take. He doesn’t want to look so casual, but he doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard either. He can barely admit to himself that he’s trying at all, he really doesn’t want _Seokmin_ to notice.   
  
It’s not even like it’s a date, Jihoon reminds himself. Because it’s not. He and Seokmin aren’t dating. They’re _friends_ . This is a friend thing. Just two friends getting breakfast together before they both have to go to work. No big deal.   
  
In the end, he decides on his light blue sweater, because the sleeves aren’t hard to get into his coat, and his nicer ripped jeans, and he goes to bed before he can make himself do other stupid things.   
  


* * *

**  
**The next morning, Seokmin is waiting for Jihoon outside the coffee shop when he gets there. He’s wearing a long coat Jihoon hasn’t seen before over his work uniform, and he’s staring off to the side, the dull morning sun in his face, expression soft and thoughtless.  
  
He turns his head when Jihoon comes up to his side, an easy grin spreading across his face. “Hey,” he says gently, laughing a little. “Oh no, you look like you’re still half asleep.”   
  
“I’m fine,” Jihoon grumbles, not quite meeting Seokmin’s eyes. “You didn’t have to wait outside for me, it’s cold.”   
  
“It’s okay,” Seokmin assures him, “I practically just got here.” He steps to the side and opens the door, gesturing for Jihoon to go in first.   
  
It’s warmer inside, and there’s more people already here than Jihoon was expecting. The tables that are taken are mostly filled by one person, early birds spending a quiet morning reading or working on their laptops, drinking coffee they didn’t have to make themselves. Other than the soft overhead music, it’s quiet inside the coffee shop.   
  
There is no line, so Jihoon follows Seokmin right up the register, lets him order first.   
  
Seokmin wavers for a moment, eyes fixed on the menu mounted up on the wall. “Can I have one honey butter bread and one mint hot chocolate, please?”   
  
The barista takes his order without a comment, which is probably just good customer service, but Jihoon turns a blank stare on Seokmin that he doesn’t seem to notice, shocked that Seokmin is ready to have all that sugar already. _It’s nine in the morning_ , Jihoon thinks.   
  
When Seokmin moves to take out his wallet, Jihoon touches his elbow to stop him, orders an Americano and a yogurt cup for himself, and pays for both of them. They move to wait at the other end of the counter and Seokmin nudges him with his elbow.   
  
“You didn’t have to pay for me,” Seokmin says even as he’s grinning down at Jihoon. “Now I feel bad, I’m the one who invited you out.”   
  
Jihoon waves his hand dismissively, shakes his head with it.   
  
“You’re always so cool about this stuff,” Seokmin says quietly, more like a comment to himself, and Jihoon finally looks at him, expression muted and neutral. It’s too early in the morning to be feeling flustered and shy over Seokmin saying nice things about him.   
  
“I’ll get our stuff,” Jihoon tells him, “do you wanna grab a table for us?”   
  
Seokmin beams at him before he leaves, and Jihoon watches him long enough to see where they’re sitting.   
  
The employee that brings him their order is nice enough to put it all on a tray for Jihoon, and he thanks them before he takes it and carries it to their table. He sets Seokmin stuff in front of him and his own on the other side of the table, aware that Seokmin is watching him, but neither of them say anything until Jihoon sits down across from him.   
  
“What?” Jihoon finally asks when Seokmin only continues to stare at him, grinning from ear to ear.   
  
“Nothing,” Seokmin answers quickly. “Are you not a morning person, hyung?”   
  
Jihoon shrugs. “I get up fine. It takes me a while to, like. Boot up, though.”   
  
“I can tell,” Seokmin says, laughing softly. “You still look sleep soft.”   
  
Jihoon just barely stops himself from slamming his face down on the table and causing a scene. It’s too early. His heart keeps stuttering in his chest. He picks up his coffee, takes a careful, slow sip, sighs as the warmth spreads down his body.   
  
“I can’t believe that’s what you’re having for breakfast,” Jihoon comments, trying to change the subject, nodding down at the fluffy bread topped with whip cream Seokmin ordered.   
  
“What’s wrong with what I’m having?” Seokmin asks petulantly, looking down at his food.   
  
“Isn’t that, like. A lot of sugar?”   
  
Seokmin shrugs, picks up his little fork, and cuts out a piece of bread that he holds out to Jihoon. When Jihoon makes to grab the fork, Seokmin swipes it out of his reach and moves it closer to Jihoon’s face, grinning. Jihoon frowns.   
  
“Then I won’t try it,” Jihoon tells him, even as his ears turn red. He’s not about to let Seokmin feed him in public. Who knows what Jihoon might do with his face? God, he needs to get out of his coat.   
  
Seokmin laughs softly, pulls the offending utensil back. “Okay, sorry,” he says, “here, try it.”   
  
“Too sweet,” Jihoon says after Seokmin lets him take the fork, making a face.   
  
“You don’t like sweets?” Seokmin asks, laughing a little. Jihoon shakes his head, staring at Seokmin as he shoves a chunk of bread in his mouth.   
  
Jihoon says, “Not really. Not often. Not at nine in the morning,” and Seokmin laughs at him, eyes bright and happy. He doesn’t know how Seokmin can be in such a good mood so early before a day of work, but he likes it. He likes seeing Seokmin smile so much, actually.   
  
They’re quiet for a little bit, but it’s comfortable. Jihoon mixes the fruit and granola in his yogurt cup while Seokmin sips at his drink happily. When Jihoon leans forward in his seat to tug the sleeves of his coat off his arm, something in one of his pockets knocks against his side, and he has to think about it for a moment before he remembers.   
  
“Hey,” he says as he reaches into this pocket, coat half off. Seokmin looks at him curiously. “I got these for you,” Jihoon says quietly, putting the box down in front of Seokmin without looking at him.   
  
Seokmin furrows his brow as he picks up the lozenges. “But,” he says carefully, “I’m not sick?”   
  
“I know,” Jihoon says with a shrug, staring into his yogurt cup. “I just thought you might need it, sometime. They’re good for your throat.”   
  
Seokmin is quiet for a moment, and Jihoon can feel his eyes on him still. When he chances a quick glance, he finds Seokmin smiling widely at him, a soft look in his eyes that Jihoon can’t quite place. He grins when their eyes meet. Jihoon’s heart practically stops, his face heating up.   
  
“Thanks, hyung,” Seokmin says gently, earnest. Jihoon waves his hand between them, mumbling something even he can’t understand, embarrassed and stupidly happy.   
  
********

* * *

**  
**On Thursday, Jihoon goes straight to Seungcheol’s place after work.  
  
It’s not consistent, but they’ve made it a sort of tradition that, when all thirteen of them are free, they meet up to watch M Countdown together. They used to have an apartment rotation to where they would watch it, but more recently they’ve started only going to Seungcheol’s place, since he, Jeonghan, and Joshua have the biggest place.   
  
Almost everyone else is there by the time Jihoon arrives. Wonwoo greets him at the door, having arrived a few seconds before Jihoon and opening the door when Jihoon knocks, and a chorus of hello’s goes around the living room before the door has even closed behind Jihoon.   
  
“Who’s here?” Jeonghan’s voice calls softly from the kitchen and Mingyu pops his head out to look.   
  
“Jihoonie-hyung,” Mingyu tells him, then grins and waves at Jihoon before ducking away.   
  
Jeonghan calls out a greeting for him as well, but the others have already moved on and gone back to their chattering and Jihoon almost doesn’t hear him.   
  
Jihoon follows Wonwoo in after taking his jacket off and leaving his work bag by the coat rack. Seungcheol, Hansol, Joshua and Minghao are sitting and talking together on the couch while Soonyoung and Seungkwan set up the TV. By the sound of it, they’re arguing about the popularity of certain groups and the importance of choreography versus vocals while Junhui and Chan sit close by, Junhui listening attentively and Chan cutting in with his two cents. Soonyoung pauses mid-way through a rant when Wonwoo comes to greet him with a kiss, but he picks right back where he left off with a fiery passion, Seungkwan already shaking his head at him, and Jihoon forgoes them to sit with the other guys.   
  
“Every time we do this, it’s the same thing,” Minghao is saying as Jihoon takes a seat on the arm of the couch next to Joshua, and he realizes they’re all watching Soonyoung and Seungkwan argue as well.   
  
“I never realized there was so much to argue about in kpop,” Joshua comments from where he’s sitting beside Seungcheol, who has an arm around his shoulders.   
  
“He acts like that here,” Hansol says, “but when we watch M Countdown at home, Seungkwan complains about missing Soonyoung-hyung.”   
  
Jihoon scoffs. “Poser.”   
  
Turning his gaze on Jihoon, Seungcheol grins. “Sounds a lot like you though.”   
  
Jihoon gives Seungcheol a mean look before he reaches over to push his arm off Joshua, just to be difficult.   
  
“Why are you bringing up Hyuna?” Seungkwan demands across the room. “You can’t compare newer girl group artists with Hyuna, it’s not fair.”   
  
“Why not?” Soonyoung asks in an affronted tone.   
  
“Hyung, she’s an _icon_ .”   
  
“It’s so frustrating listening to them,” Minghao says, laughing a little. “Because I only know enough to know who they’re talking about, but not enough to know what anything else means.”   
  
Joshua laughs, leaning over to look at Minghao and nod at him. Hansol shakes his head and says, “I can’t say the same. I’ve been given a full course.”   
  
Wonwoo has taken a seat with Junhui and Chan, the three of them doing a funny back and forth with their eyes as they try to follow the argument going on in front of them.   
  
“I know them,” Seungcheol says suddenly, perking up beside Joshua, eyes fixed on Soonyoung and Seungkwan like an excited puppy. “I know who they’re talking about,” he repeats excitedly as he gets up from the couch to join the two of them. Jihoon has lost thread of the conversation, he has no idea who the _them_ is, but he doesn’t try to find out either.   
  
“He just wants to be included,” Jihoon says as he slides into Seungcheol’s place. Joshua laughs as he looks at him, nodding in agreement. They settle in to watch the other three argue with each other, but a knock comes at the door and Joshua gets up to open it.   
  
Another wave of greetings goes around the room when Seokmin walks in, who immediately lights up at the sound of their voices. His nose and cheeks are pink from the cold night air outside, but his smile and eyes are warm as he greets them all back. At the sound of his voice, Jeonghan and Mingyu call out Seokmin’s name, and Seokmin shouts back a hello to them as well.   
  
Seungcheol seems deeply invested by the time Seokmin starts taking off his coat, and he has somehow roped Chan completely into the conversation as well. The added participants have Seungkwan and Soonyoung even more excited than usual, Soonyoung raising his voice as Seungkwan makes these wild gestures with his hands, Junhui and Wonwoo safely watching from the sidelines and laughing between each other. From what Jihoon can tell, it seems like Seungkwan and Soonyoung are on the same side now, for the sake of telling Seungcheol and Chan how wrong they are, and the two of them don’t stand a chance.   
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says, and Jihoon looks up before he realizes Seokmin is talking to Joshua. “Have these always been here?” he asks, pointing to the picture frames hung from the wall by the front door, as well as the ones set up on the extra space of the TV table.   
  
“Yeah,” Joshua nods, looking at Seokmin a little blankly.   
  
“Don’t you put them away for parties, though?” Hansol comments, tuned in to this conversation instead of Soonyoung’s rant about boy group dancers.   
  
“They weren’t here last time we came over, either,” Jihoon adds. Joshua blinks at them before his face lights up with realization.   
  
“Yeah,” Joshua says, dragging out the word, “right, yeah, we put them away for parties ‘cause Hannie worries someone will knock them down, but we forgot to bring them back up for a while.”   
  
“What did we forget?” Seungcheol says as he rejoins them, apparently having either given up or been scared away from the discussion.   
  
“The pictures,” Joshua tells him. “After Hannie’s party, we forgot to put them back up until recently.”   
  
“Oh yeah,” Seungcheol agrees, nodding. “They didn’t use to go over here and we weren’t used to seeing them there, so we kept forgetting. You haven’t seen them before, Seokminie?”   
  
Jihoon notices the way both Joshua and Seungcheol use _we_ to refer to each other, instead of _I_ or _you_ . He looks at the way Seungcheol draws near to Joshua, and the way Joshua smiles at him warmly, then remembers similar moments he’s witnessed between the two of them and Jeonghan. A little late, Jihon realizes how close the three of them are, a closeness that comes with intimacy, and with being in love, and then living together. It’s nice, Jihoon thinks, and something warm unfolds in his chest at seeing one of his best friends have something so nice and good. Only a little bit does the feeling ache in his own chest.   
  
Unbidden, Jihoon flicks his gaze to Seokmin, and maybe he’s made a habit of realizing things a little late.   
  
“Hyung, you used to have white hair?” Seokmin asks, and it takes Jihoon a moment to come out of his own thoughts and realize Seokmin is talking to him.   
  
“Me?” he asks dumbly, blinking, then gets up to look when Seokmin nods.   
  
Sure enough, there’s a picture of Jihoon with bleached white hair standing between Soonyoung and Seungcheol. Jihoon is smiling mischievously at the camera while Seungcheol has a hand on top of his head, smiling cheekily with his other arm outstretched as he takes the picture. Soonyoung looks like he was caught in the middle of laughing, mouth opened wide in a grin and eyes squeezed shut even as he holds up a peace sign. Jihoon remembers when they took the picture, but he forgot it was the one Seungcheol had up in their home.   
  
“Oh,” he says in soft realization, “yeah, I did.”   
  
“Hoonie used to dye his hair a lot when we were in college,” Seungcheol says through a small laugh, turning to look down at Jihoon.   
  
“It wasn’t a lot,” Jihoon says defensively, for some reason feeling a little embarrassed. Seokmin is looking at him with a wide grin that goes all the way up to his eyes, and Jihoon can see him from the corner of his eye, but he can’t bring himself to look directly at Seokmin.   
  
“I think most of the pictures I’ve seen of you and Cheolie in college, you have a different hair color in each of them,” Joshua comments, grinning as well.   
  
“Seungcheol-hyung used to dye his hair a lot, too,” Jihoon mutters, staring at the picture of them stubbornly. There’s another one next to it of Joshua and Hansol, their arms around each other’s shoulders and wide grins on their faces. Jihoon thinks Jeonghan took the picture, but he can’t remember. Beside that one, there’s a picture of Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua with Joshua’s mom, the four of them standing in front of a Christmas tree. It looks pretty recent, like, last Christmas recent.   
  
“Not as much as you, though,” Seungcheol argues. “If we were at Soonyoung’s place,” he says it loudly and pointedly, looking over the TV to look at Soonyoung before he turns back to Seokmin, “I could show you all this other stuff from when we were in college, he has more than I do.”   
  
“What did you say?” Soonyoung says in a fake angry tone as he comes to join their conversation.   
  
“I said,” Seungcheol starts in a similar tone, then eases down immediately, “that you have more pictures and videos from when you, Jihoonie, and I were in college that we could show Seokminie. He hasn’t even seen Jihoon’s hair.”   
  
“Oh my god,” Jihoon complains, rolling his eyes, and it makes Seokmin and Joshua laugh.   
  
“Oh, dude,” Soonyoung says gravely with wide eyes as he leans towards Seokmin, hands spread in front of himself. “I have. _So_ many videos of Jihoon in college, you have no idea. Did you know he used to be in dance classes?”   
  
Seokmin opens his mouth in a silent gasp and turns wide eyes on Jihoon, who fixedly ignores him, turning his head in the opposite direction.   
  
“Hyung, you dance?” Seokmin asks, and before Jihoon can adamantly deny it, Seungcheol and Soonyoung answer a strong, united _Yes_ .   
  
“He’s actually pretty good,” Soonyoung tells Seokmin seriously, and Jihoon thinks he’s heard about enough. He’s awfully aware of what Seokmin thinks of him now, and he doesn’t want to hear Soonyoung tell him about Jihoon’s senior recitals or the embarrassing videos he has of him at college parties, but he knows arguing will only fuel Soonyoung on, so he leaves their small circle without another word and instead heads to the kitchen to help Jeonghan and Mingyu. Soonyoung could chatter on in his absence, but what Jihoon doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Ignorance is bliss, and all that.   
  
“Hyung,” Mingyu greets him with a smile when Jihoon walks in, and Jeonghan turns his head to look at him briefly. Mingyu’s smile is warm and happy and makes fondness replace the annoyed feeling of embarrassment in Jihoon’s chest   
  
“You guys need help?” Jihoon asks, trying for casual.   
  
“You wanna start taking out drinks for me?” Jeonghan asks, looking at him again, eyes kind. His hair is starting to grow out again, the tips of it brushing his cheekbones when it’s parted in the middle like tonight, and he’s wearing this fluffy beige sweater that makes him look soft. Jihoon doesn’t know if it’s the relief of being away from Soonyoung’s embarrassing comments or how much drastically quieter it is here than out in the living room with everyone else, but Jihoon remembers that Mingyu and Jeonghan, when he wants to be, are actually the gentlest and most comforting out of everyone in the group. He should have started here when he arrived.   
  
“Here, I’ll help you,” Mingyu says quickly, moving to hand Jihoon three drinks, which is all he can hold in his hands, before taking three himself.   
  
They go back and forth between the kitchen and the coffee table in the living room, and by the time they’re helping Jeonghan take out the snack bowls and bags of chips, Seungkwan is announcing silence as the show’s about to start.   
  
Mingyu sits on the floor in between Minghao’s legs after they’re done placing everything on the coffee table while Jeonghan squeezes in between Seungcheol and Joshua. Jihoon is crouching down to sit on the floor beside the coffee table when he feels someone tap his arm and turns around to look at Seokmin’s gently questioning eyes.   
  
“Hyung,” he whispers quietly, wisely avoiding Seungkwan and Soonyoung’s wrath, “do you wanna sit here?”   
  
Jihoon looks at him, then looks at the armchair he’s sitting in, and waves his hand as he shakes his head. “Move over, we can both squeeze in,” he says, and Seokmin looks down at his own legs before shuffling in against the arm of the chair. Jihoon sits down beside him, and when he’s done shifting his legs around until they’re both sort of comfortable, Seokmin nudges him with his elbow. Jihoon looks up into Seokmin’s warm smile and smiling eyes.   
  
Jihoon can’t help the surge of warmth and fondness that bursts in his chest or the way he immediately smiles back at Seokmin without being able to stop himself.   
  
Han Hyunmin starts speaking from the TV and Seokmin diverts his attention to him and Lee Daehwi, but Jihoon risks looking at him for a moment longer, all of a sudden far too aware of his feelings for Seokmin, and of the way they’re sitting pressed so closely together, knee to hip and elbow to shoulder, aware that only warmth radiates from Seokmin’s body.   
  
Jihoon turns to the TV and puts all of his efforts into not turning bright pink or letting anyone else hear the hard thudding of his heart in his chest.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
After the first hour of M Countdown, Jihoon realizes he’s run out of Coca Cola and whispers a quick _be right back_ at Seokmin before he gets up and goes to the kitchen.   
  
He’s looking through the fridge when he hears footsteps behind him and looks over his shoulder to see Seungcheol.   
  
“If we’re out of Coca Cola, I’m gonna drop down on this kitchen floor right now and cry,” Jihoon tells him seriously, but Seungcheol doesn’t bat an eyelash as he comes forward, opens the freezer, and takes out two cans of soda, handing one to Jihoon.   
  
“You guys go through snacks and drinks like crazy so I have to put them in there so they get cold quicker,” Seungcheol explains as he pops open his can and watches Jihoon do the same. “Hey, you alright?” he asks in a softer tone, looking at Jihoon curiously. Jihoon meets his eyes in a blank stare over the can until he’s done taking a drink.   
  
“Yeah, why?” Jihoon responds. Seungcheol opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, Soonyoung comes to join them in the kitchen.   
  
“What are you guys talking about?” Soonyoung whispers at them immediately. Jihoon stares at him, nose scrunched up and lips parted to bare his teeth.   
  
“Aren’t you missing your show?” Jihoon asks.   
  
“Yeah, but you two are here,” Soonyoung says easily, and when both Jihoon and Seungcheol keep staring at him, he juts out his bottom lip in a pout. “I don’t like to be left out.”   
  
“There’s nothing to be left out from,” Jihoon tells him before taking another swig from his can of soda.   
  
“I was just checking on Hoonie,” Seungcheol tells him in a quiet voice, then turns to look at Jihoon. “Cause you were weird earlier, and you’ve been super quiet.”   
  
“Oh yeah,” Soonyoung whispers, nodding. “Did I embarrass you too much in front of your crush, Hoonie?” he asks, coming forward to nudge Jihoon’s shoulder.   
  
Jihoon’s eyes widen, and he has to pull the can away from his mouth and hold the gulp of soda in his mouth to avoid choking and coughing, but the fizz makes his eyes sting.   
  
“Excuse you,” Jihoon hiss whispers after he manages to swallow, eyes watery and lips wet, as Seungcheol pats his back gently. “What crush?”   
  
“Seokmin, duh,” Soonyoung answers easily, and Jihoon gapes at him before baring his teeth again.   
  
“I do _not_ have a crush on Seokmin,” Jihoon says immediately, defensive.   
  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says, sounding very not sorry at all, “should I say you’re _in love with him_ , is that more accurate?” he finishes in a cooing, teasing whisper.   
  
Stupidly, Jihoon freezes. He hasn’t told anyone about the way he feels for Seokmin, of course, and the words surprise him, because he didn’t expect them to fall out of Soonyoung’s mouth so casually. Jihoon hasn’t even been able to say them out loud to himself.   
  
A silence only filtered by the sound of the M Countdown hosts introducing the next artist falls around them. Jihoon can feel Seuncgehol and Soonyoung’s expectant stares on him as he looks down at his can of soda, watching the little bubbles of carbonation pop against the inside of the can.   
  
“Oh, shit.” Soonyoung whispers lowly. “You’re like, _actually_ in love with him.”   
  
Jihoon grimaces, sucking in air through his teeth and still not looking at either of his friends.   
  
“Dude, I’m sorry, my bad,” Soonyoung says earnestly. “I didn’t mean to tease you.”   
  
“I can’t believe you’re just. Admitting it to us?” Seungcheol says in vague disbelief.   
  
“I didn’t admit anything,” Jihoon snaps, sharply raising his eyes to Seungcheol, because he didn’t, actually.   
  
“Your silence is an admission,” Soonyoung offers, then goes on when Jihoon turns his accusing gaze on him instead, “I really think we should work on you being more open about communicating your feelings, Jihoonie, especially here, this kitchen is a safe space.”   
  
“Shut up, you loudmouth,” Jihoon hisses at him in a harsh whisper, “safe space my ass, do you realize all of our friends are in the other room, _Seokmin_ included?”   
  
Soonyoung smiles awkwardly before covering his mouth with his hand and shrugging his shoulders.   
  
“I’m gonna kill you,” Jihoon says, flat and resigned. “We had a good run as friends, but it’s time, I have to kill you.”   
  
“You can’t kill me,” Soonyoung whispers, spreading his fingers apart to reveal just his mouth. Jihoon makes a disgusted face at the sight. “Who’s gonna help you with your love life if I’m dead?”   
  
“Children,” Seungcheol says, grabbing Jihoon by the shoulders when he makes to grab Soonyoung and pulling him back towards his own chest. “No blood in my kitchen, Jihoonie, please.”   
  
“There won’t be any blood,” Jihoon promises as Soonyoung stares at him, mouth open and eyes wide, hand dropping away from his face. “I’ll do it with my own hands, clean and easy, and we just need a place to hide the body.”   
  
Soonyoung scoffs. “You know what, fuck that,” he says in a very different tone, his snotty, smug tone that makes Jihoon want to hurt him. He points a finger at Jihoon’s face, hand on his hip. “You can’t kill me ‘cause I’m a bad bitch.”   
  
Seungcheol grips Jihoon’s shoulders tightly as Jihoon makes another violent swipe at Soonyoung. “I feel we should be having a very different conversation right now,” Seungcheol whispers at the two of them.   
  
“No conversation,” Jihoon whispers with finality. “We don’t need to have a conversation, I have it under control.”   
  
“You mean under repression,” Soonyoun says instead of asks, and Jihoon forgoes trying to grab him for a dirty glare. He’s pretty strong himself, but he knows Seungcheol is stronger still, and there’s no way to get away from him without causing a ruckus in the kitchen.   
  
“That’s _my_ business,” Jihoon starts saying, but before he can go on, the sound of someone clearing their throat at the head of the kitchen makes them all jump, startled.   
  
Seungkwan is standing there, watching them all with curious eyes. The three of them stare back at him, eyes blank and mouths snapped shut.   
  
“What are you guys _doing_ ?” Seungkwan says in a normal tone of voice that makes Jihoon’s heart race in blind panic.   
  
“Nothing,” Seungcheol, Soonyoung, and Jihoon immediately answer in perfect unison, still whispering.   
  
“Uh huh,” Seungkwan hums, unconvinced. “Okay, well, I just came to tell you IU is about to come on, hyung,” he says, looking at Jihoon.   
  
Jihoon nods gratefully before moving his shoulders out of Seungcheol’s grip and taking his can with him as he walks out of the kitchen with Seungkwan.   
  
“Seungkwanie,” Jihoon says quietly as they make their way back to their seats. “Did you know you’re my favorite?”   
  
Seungkwan turns to look at him with a sweetly confused expression before an embarrassed smile blooms across his face. He shoves Jihoon’s shoulder gently and bats his eyelashes before he goes to sit between Hansol and Chan.   
  
Seokmin looks up at Jihoon when he comes back to sit beside him, and he crosses his legs one knee over the other to make more space on the arm chair.   
  
“You okay?” Seokmin asks quietly, watching Jihoon carefully shift around, trying to find the position they were in before, which wasn’t altogether comfortable, but neither of them were pressing down on each other’s thighs.   
  
“Yeah, why?” Jihoon asks, trying for casual.   
  
“I don’t know,” Seokmin says easily and waits until Jihoon has settled down. “You just seem a little odd in the face, like. Your expression.”   
  
Jihoon looks at Seokmin then, at his soft smile and the faint light of concern in his eyes, the way he watches Jihoon and gives him all his attention when he talks to him. Soft, tinkling music starts playing from the TV as IU’s voice sings from it. He thinks about how nice Seokmin always is to him, attentive in a gentle way, and Jihoon likes him so much. He thinks of Seungcheol and Jeonghan and Joshua and the private way they smile at each other sometimes, their casual but familiar touches, thinks of the way Hansol referred to his and Seungkwan’s place as _home_ , how he always looks at Seungkwan with only fondness. Jihoon thinks _It must be nice to have the person you love, love you back_ , and for a crazy split moment, he wants so badly to tell Seokmin how he feels.   
  
But then, Soonyoung and Seungcheol come back into the room, and as Soonyoung sits behind Wonwoo, he whispers, “I was almost murdered in the kitchen,” while Seokmin’s smile shifts into an almost worried frown, and it’s enough to break the spell, panic making Jihoon’s heart race.   
  
“I’m fine,” Jihoon says instead of what he wants to. “Just Soonyoung. Are you out of soda?” he asks, nodding at the way Seokmin is limply holding his soda can in his hand. He glances at it before nodding at Jihoon, and Jihoon looks away at the TV as he hands Seokmin his own soda.   
  
He misses the way Seokmin smiles at him, bright and fond and personal, and the quiet affection in his eyes as he takes Jihoon’s can from him.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jihoon and Seokmin leave first, because Seokmin has to work early the next day and can’t stay late. He tries to tell Jihoon he doesn’t have to leave just because Seokmin is, but Jihoon shakes his head and tells him it’s fine. What he doesn’t tell Seokmin is that he refuses to leave separately because they always go home together now, and he’s not willing to give up the half hour alone with Seokmin that going home together gives him.   
  
This time at night on a weeknight it’s easy to find seats together on the subway. Saturday afternoons after their weekly lunch date with Jeonghan and Seungkwan, the train tends to be a lot more packed. Jihoon has had to stand close to Seokmin and be jostled against his chest or arms by the flow of bodies moving in and out of the train. Jihoon understands why he used to get so embarrassed about that a lot more, now.   
  
“Are you working tomorrow?” Seokmin asks quietly as they take a seat together.   
  
“Not until later in the afternoon,” Jihoon tells him, “but I do have orchestra rehearsals at ten.” He leans his head back against the wall of the train car as Seokmin angles his body to face Jihoon, a position that’s familiar to both of them because it’s the one they automatically assume when they take the train at night, after a full day of working or doing things and are both tired. “How early are you working tomorrow?”   
  
“Six,” Seokmin says, a little whiny. “I have to open up tomorrow. I won’t be by myself though, so it’s okay.”   
  
“Is that guy opening up with you, um,” Jihoon wavers around, trying to remember the right name of co-workers Seokmin has casually mentioned to him in passing or when he’s telling stories.   
  
“Yugyeomie,” Seokmin says helpfully, and Jihoon snaps his fingers at the recognition it sparks. “Yeah, he’s working the same shift I am.”   
  
“That’s nice,” Jihoon says faintly, staring at a lawyer ad across from them. “He’s the really funny one, right?”   
  
“That’s him,” Seokmin says, nodding, then falls quiet as their train makes their first stop and a man in a suit boards. “Hyung?” Seokmin says when the train starts to go again. Jihoon hums softly as a response. “How much hair dyeing is _a lot_ ?” he asks, but Jihoon’s rolling his eyes and sitting up before he’s even done with the question.   
  
“It wasn’t a lot,” Jihoon says again, defensively. “Seungcheol-hyung’s full of shit, we practically changed hair colors at the same time.”   
  
“Hyung, come on,” Seokmin says, like Jihoon is being ridiculous, “what other colors have you dyed your hair?” and he smiles as he says it, reaching over to briefly touch Jihoon’s knee. Jihoon follows his hand with his eyes and wonders what it says about him that the light touch and the fluttering feeling it leaves behind over the denim of Jihoon’s knee is enough to get Jihoon to answer anything Seokmin asks of him.   
  
Jihoon sighs softly, in part just to keep face, and sits up in the seat of the train, instead resting his elbow on the back of the seat. “Well,” he starts, and Seokmin’s smile widens. “I had pink hair going into college, like. That was the first color I went with, and just so you know, Seungcheol-hyung had the same exact same color as me,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at the empty seat across from them.   
  
“That’s cute, you guys matched?” Seokmin says with a laugh.   
  
“It wasn’t cute, and as soon as I realized how embarrassing it actually was I bleached it and went blonde,” Jihoon goes on, ignoring the low sound of Seokmin’s laugh next to him. “I had orange hair for a little bit, then bleached hair again, and then I had super red hair. Seungcheol-hyung had blue hair at that point, and Soonyoung went bright magenta.”   
  
“I feel like these are the pictures that should have been framed,” Seokmin says in a mockingly thoughtful tone. Jihoon gives him an unimpressed look.   
  
“Shut up, Soonyoung has pictures at his apartment, don’t even bring it up to him,” Jihoon says drily.   
  
Seokmin nudges his shoulder with the back of his hand and asks, “What else?”   
  
“Then I had black hair,” Jihoon says after pausing to think about it, “then I bleached it blonde again, and then I bleached and toned it some more so I had that white hair in the picture.”   
  
“That looked good on you,” Seokmin says in a quiet, low voice that makes Jihoon’s heart stutter in his chest. He ignores that too.   
  
“Then I had brown hair for a while, and then I had this, like, silver gray color, and after that I went back to black and stopped dyeing and bleaching it.”   
  
“Didn’t you ever worry all your hair would fall out?” Seokmin asks as the train slows down to a stop. Jihoon shrugs as he watches the man in the suit pick up his briefcase and depart.   
  
“I thought about it, but I didn’t care too much. Anyway, my hair’s fine, see,” he says, lowering his head to show Seokmin the top of his head, and Seokmin giggles quietly as he gently shoves Jihoon’s head away. “You’ve never colored your hair?” Jihoon asks, resting back on his seat and dropping his head against the train car wall again.   
  
Seokmin shakes his head, “No. I pierced my ears after high school and that was the extent of my modifications.”   
  
Jihoon turns his head and glances at Seokmin’s ears, even though he already knows Seokmin’s ears are pierced, noticed it that first Saturday he came to their weekly lunch meetup. “You never wear anything in them though, do you?”   
  
Seokmin hums and reaches up to squeeze one of his lobes between his forefinger and thumb. “I used to a lot more when I first got them, after they healed, but it started to feel like a hassle. I wear earrings when I go to something nice,” Seokmin explains, then quickly adds, “but not too nice, you know, not like formal stuff.”   
  
“Nice but somewhere in between nice and formal,” Jihoon says, then laughs when Seokmin nods in agreement.   
  
They get off together when the train arrives at their stop, Jihoon following behind Seokmin until they walk out of the subway station and into the cold night air, hands tucked into their pockets and instinctively walking closer together, arms brushing against each other shoulder to elbow as they chat quietly on their way to Naksan Park.   
  
“What about the dance classes?” Seokmin asks carefully. Jihoon pauses before he realizes what he’s asking, and then he groans and rolls his eyes, which makes Seokmin laugh softly.   
  
“It wasn’t like that, they weren’t like _actual_ dance classes,” Jihoon says, voice strained and just a note off from complaining. “I took it as an elective in college ‘cause I thought it’d be fun to take the class with Soonyoung. Didn’t realize what a mistake that was going to be in my future,” he mutters the last bit, eyes trailed off to the side in an annoyed stare.   
  
“But you were good at it?” Seokmin says, phrasing it like a question.   
  
“I mean, I wasn’t bad,” Jihoon offers, shrugging. “I’m not like Soonyoung or Chan or Junhui, you know. I think all the class did for me is that I look less stupid than Wonwoo and Mingyu at clubs.”   
  
Seokmin laughs again, the kind of laugh where he opens his mouth with it and squeezes his eyes shut as he ducks his head, and when Jihoon turns to look at ahim, he can’t help laughing softly as well, can’t ignore the warmth that blooms in his chest at the sight of Seokmin. He doesn’t feel as embarrassed about his college stories like this, which reminds him that Seokmin is the best listener in the world, how easy it is to talk to him. He thinks, even if he were embarrassed, it would be worth it just to make Seokmin laugh like this.   
  
“I don’t believe you,” Seokmin says after he manages to stop laughing, a smile still playing at his lips. “I think I need to see Soonyoung’s videos to judge for myself.”   
  
Jihoon takes his hands out of his pockets and raises them to cover his ears, eyes squeezed shut and nose scrunched up. “No, shut up,” he says loudly, shaking his head. “We graduate college so we can leave all the embarrassing memories from it in the past, that’s where they need to stay.”   
  
“But hyung,” Seokmin whines, laughing still. “I didn’t know you in college, I didn’t get to see any of it.”   
  
“And you should prefer it that way,” Jihoon says with finality.   
  
Seokmin breathes a long suffering sigh. He says, “Soonyoung-hyung has all the evidence and I’m not even allowed to see it.”   
  
“You know,” Jihoon snaps, waving his finger in the air. “That’s a variance of invasion of privacy, I never gave Soonyoung permission to take those videos of me.”   
  
Seokmin laughs, repeating “Invasion of privacy” in a huff.   
  
“I’m serious,” Jihoon argues.   
  
“Oh, really?” Seokmin laughs, turning to look at him. Jihoon nods, serious. “You wanna talk about invasion of privacy? What about that time at Soonyoung’s place,” he laughs in the middle when Jihoon starts to shake his head, but Seokmin raises his voice and keeps going, “that time at hyung’s place when you read drunk texts he sent you about Wonwoo aloud?”   
  
Jihoon shakes his head until Seokmin finishes, refusing to hear it. “That is completely different,” he says sternly, gesturing with his hand, but Seokmin laughs again and shakes his head right back at him. “It is different, and I’m gonna tell you why.”   
  
“Go ahead, explain it to me,” Seokmin says, grining.   
  
“It’s different because Soonyoung _willingly_ sent those to me, whereas the videos Soonyoung took of me were taken _without my permission_ ” he explains fiercely as they reach the entrance of Naksan Park, where Seokmin stops and turns to face Jihoon as he talks. “And, anyway, those were very nice things Soonyoung was saying about Wonwoo. Honestly,” he adds, with feeling, “I was just doing a _nice_ thing for Wonwoo, which in turn is a nice thing for Soonyoung, so _that’s_ how it’s different. But, also, Soonyoung’s a menace, so it’s earned.”   
  
Seokmin waits until Jihoon is done talking before he bursts out laughing, head tilted back slightly so Jihoon can see the sharp angle of his jawline and the way the lamp posts cast shadows along Seokmin’s neck, the sound of his laugh a faint echo around them.   
  
“Wow,” Seokmin breathes after he quiets down, bright eyes fixed on Jihoon as he rubs the red tip of his nose with the back of his hand. “That’s amazing. I actually want to take your side now.”   
  
Jihoon preens, smug and proud of himself. Seokmin keeps staring at him, the light in his eyes shifting into something warm and fond. It’s a look Jihoon has gotten used to seeing, and he doesn’t know when that happened.   
  
Seokmin’s smile softens. “I wish I had met you sooner,” he says, tone oddly gentle. He sounds so earnest that it takes Jihoon by surprise, heart stuttering in his chest as he lifts his eyes to look at Seokmin.   
  
“What do you mean?” Jihoon asks, his voice losing the stubborn edge he had before.   
  
Seokmin shrugs, lifting himself on the heels of his feet for a moment. “I don’t know,” he says, easily, “I’d get to know other sides of you. I’d know all these other things about you.”   
  
Jihoon frowns and looks away, embarrassed. “Why would you want that?” he asks, for some reason feeling petulant.   
  
Seokmin’s smile widens. “Because,” he says softly. Jihoon turns to look at him again. “I think you’re great. I want to know everything about you.”   
  
Something achingly warm unfolds in Jihoon’s chest, sweet and tender and soft, softer than he thought he was capable of feeling. Something a lot like the first drips of sunlight on a cool morning, makes Jihoon’s heart thud in his chest and his face feel warm against the cold breeze, makes him unable to look away from Seokmin, fixed on the way his skin looks bronze in the dark of night, under dim yellow street lights, nose pink from the cold.   
  
Whatever thoughts he had been thinking before freeze and come to a halt before they fall out his ear, only Seokmin’s words and the soft, gentle tone of his voice taking space in his head. Jihoon thinks _Ask me, ask me anything you want_ and _I’d bear my whole heart open to you if you asked_ , and it only feels a little scary in this moment right now where Seokmin looks like an old, fuzzy dream, but he thinks it will feel scarier later when they’re apart, when Jihoon doesn’t have the light of Seokmin’s eyes casted on him.   
  
“Oh,” Jihoon finally says, stupidly, as he finally pulls his eyes away from Seokmin far enough to look down at his shoes. “Okay, well,” he stammers, unsure of what to say next, what he can say without pulling his whole heart out from under his sleeve. “You don’t have to go to Soonyoung for that. I mean, I’d tell you anything you want to know.”   
  
“Yeah, but do you have video footage of it?” Seokmin asks with a low, quick laugh, and Jihoon can’t look up yet, but he can feel Seokmin’s eyes on him still. He’s sure his face is bright pink, but it’s so cold out, Seokmin wouldn’t be able to tell it apart from embarrassment, would he?   
  
“I could find some,” Jihoon mutters, determined even through his jumbled head and the way his heart thunders in his heart, terrified with joy. Seokmin is quiet for another moment, and when Jihoon risks looking up, he’s still watching Jihoon with warm, affectionate eyes, and the feeling in Jihoon’s chest expands to his legs and makes his knees feel a little weak.   
  
“Anyway,” Seokmin says quietly, and Jihoon just barely stops himself from breathing a sigh of relief, glad to move on from this topic. “Thank you for walking home with me,” Seokmin says earnestly.   
  
“Oh, yeah,” Jihoon says, trying for casual but feeling a little out of balance, off-footed. “Sure, I mean. We always go home together, right?” he actually says this time. Seokmin’s smile does something funny then, reaches his eyes in a way Jihoon hasn’t really seen before. It makes his face look gentler, less sharp features and dangerous angles and more blurred around the edges, like an old picture, like a worn, beloved photo tucked away into the crease of a book.   
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin agrees, nodding. “Still, thank you,” he says, and then, “well, I’ll see you on Saturday, right?” he asks, and Jihoon nods, and the next thing happens so quickly that Jihoon doesn’t have time to recognize it for what it is until it’s done.   
  
Seokmin leans down, because he has to lean down to reach Jihoon like this, and places one quick, tender kiss against the cold-nipped skin of Jihoon’s cheek.   
  
There’s a moment right after it happens where time freezes, or slows down or something, where Seokmin straightens back up and keeps looking at Jihoon with warm, bright eyes. Jihoon doesn’t have the hindsight to appreciate this moment for what it is, that being, of course, the moment he’ll remember when he thinks of the first time Seokmin kissed him, with the night air gently blowing his hair away from his face and the quietly caring way Seokmin looks at Jihoon, the easily gentle smile on his lips and the warm light in his eyes.   
  
And then, just as quick as it happened, the moment passes. The reality of what he’s done seems to wash over Seokmin the same way it washes over Jihoon, who stares at Seokmin with wide, surprised eyes. Once Seokmin actually sees the expression Jihoon is wearing, the color drains away from his face. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen as well as he stares at Jihoon, the hidden corner they had briefly created in the time fold shattering around them.   
  
“I’m,” Seokmin stammers for a moment, and Jihoon watches him, speechless and frozen. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” his mouth keeps moving, but no words come out, and then he makes a vague gesture behind his shoulder and says, “I should. I’m gonna go.”   
  
Just like that, he does go, and Jihoon watches Seokmin’s figure get smaller and smaller as he walks away, shoulders hunched in and hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.   
  
Jihoon doesn’t know how long he stands there for, with the cold night air blowing through his hair, eyes unseeing and mouth hanging open. He doesn’t think of anything at all, but he feels like maybe if he just stands there for long enough, something will pop into his head that makes sense of all of this, or maybe Seokmin will come back and explain it to him.   
  
But Seokmin doesn’t come back, and Jihoon does walk home, dazed and feeling like his heart might hop out of his chest and leave him behind.   
  
He goes home, and he walks through his front door and stands in the middle of his living room for a long time again, flushed and confused, unsure of what he’s supposed to do next.   
  
What he ends up doing is changing into sleep clothes and taking himself to bed, where he lays awake for a long time, staring at his dark ceiling and thinking of how warm and soft Seokmin’s lips felt against his cheek, how he could feel the warm fan of his breath from his nose on his skin, and how he swears he can still feel the lingering, fluttering feeling of the brush of Seokmin’s lips as he pulled away from him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To you in the far future, without regrets, I always wanna wait. That way, my heart will be at ease." (-Seventeen)

_“Maybe love was some combination of friendship and infatuation. A deeply felt affection accompanied by a certain sort of awe. And by gratitude. And by a desire for a lifetime of togetherness.”_ _  
__  
_-Chinelo Okparanta, _Under the Udala Trees_ .  
  


Seokmin begs off from Saturday lunch date by telling Jeonghan he’s too busy to come, and that’s when Jihoon starts to panic.  
  
He thinks about it after lunch, on his way home. He can’t remember why he thought it would be fine. In the morning light of Friday morning, after the night Seokmin so sweetly kissed him on the cheek, Jihoon thought it would be fine. He figured he would see Seokmin on Saturday and that they would walk home together, and they would talk about it then.  
  
Now, as he walks into the subway station with no Seokmin to chatter his ear away, he can’t understand why he ever thought that, and a seed of worry and fear starts to sprout in his chest. He had been so stunned by the kiss when it happened, but now that he thought about it with a clearer head, hadn’t Seokmin apologized immediately after it? And he did leave in the end, left Jihoon standing alone in front of Naksan Park on a cold night, breath fogging in front of him even as he felt the wind knocked out of him.  
  
What if it had been a mistake? Maybe Seokmin hadn’t meant to kiss him, and now he regretted it and couldn’t find a way to tell Jihoon. Maybe Seokmin was just busy and Jihoon was too egocentric to realize not everything was about him.  
  
On the train ride home, Jihoon stands near the door as he holds on to one of the hang rings above him, and he thinks of Seokmin and the way he would turn his body towards Jihoon when they could sit on the train, and the way he looked while laughing at Jihoon’s stories. On the occasions they had to stand, Seokmin would always stand behind Jihoon and try to shield him from the jostle of people, and Jihoon never mentioned it, but he always appreciated it so much, felt so much safer knocking into someone he knew than a complete stranger on the train. Now, Jihoon draws his shoulders in, in an attempt to minimize the space he takes and avoid getting hit by other people, and he rushes out of the train when he reaches his station.  
  
When Jihoon gets home, he toes off his shoes at the door and comes in to sit on his couch. He dials Seokmin’s number and holds his phone to his ear. It rings and rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. The note for a voice message beeps and Jihoon hesitates for a moment before he pulls his phone away from his face and hangs up, something sad and twinging with pain dropping in his chest.  
  
He thinks of Seokmin’s face drained of color like a ghost, his retreating back, and how he didn’t look back as he walked away from Jihoon, and feels very small all of a sudden, small and light. Light like in the way a leaf blows in the wind, helpless to do anything about it.  
  
Jihoon shakes his head like he can shake the dreadful feelings he has that way and tells himself he’s being ridiculous. Of course Seokmin is not going to pick up if he’s busy.  
  
Should he text him? What if he comes on too strong or, worse, annoying? A missed call is probably good enough to communicate that he’d like to talk to him, and Seokmin will probably return it when he sees it. Won’t he?  
  
Jihoon spends the rest of his Saturday trying to distract himself from thinking of Seokmin. He practices his clarinet for a few hours, plays facing the window in his living room and keeps his phone in his pocket, just in case Seokmin calls him back, so he won’t miss it.  
  
His phone doesn’t ring while he practices, but he does get a few messages from his sub group chat with Junhui, Soonyoung, and Wonwoo, just casual messages where they all check up with each other and share a few memes.  
  
It doesn’t ring while he’s making dinner, either, or when he sits down to watch a Matrix movie while he eats.  
  
Jihoon waits until he heads to bed for the night before he tries to call Seokmin again, heart thudding in his chest and feeling inexplicably nervous, even holds his breath while the phone rings.  
  
Seokmin doesn’t answer.  
  


* * *

  
Jihoon straightens up and places his hands on his hips as he sighs, tired and frustrated.  
  
For the past forty five minutes, he has been looking all over his apartment for this one stupid notepad with no success. This one lousy notepad happens to have all his notes on the past several meetings he’s had with Beomju about his song, and lyrics he has been meaning to pass over to his lyric book and he _needs_ it. He has work the next day and needs to look over his notes before he sees Beomju. They have an _actual_ meeting on Friday, probably the most important meeting, _the_ meeting, and he wants to ask questions and be prepared before it. Plus, it would suck if he lost all those lyrics.  
  
It’s not like Jihoon to misplace important things like this, and he can’t help but feel like some force in the universe is conspiring against him, trying to make it feel like everything is going wrong now.  
  
Usually, he keeps all his papers and notes on the desk in his room when they’re not in his work bag, unless he’s working in the living room, then he keeps them on the coffee table in front of the couch, but it’s not in either of those places, not _under_ the coffee table or under the couch, or even somewhere in the kitchen, which Jihoon checked for good measure because he knows sometimes he carries things in his hands without thinking about it when he’s multitasking.  
  
He runs a frustrated hand through his hair and decides to check his bag again, even though he already rustled through the whole thing, but just in case he missed a pocket or something.  
  
Jihoon is exasperatedly shaking his head as he takes out the same folders and papers he has already looked through when something occurs to him. The last time he saw his notepad was when he was leaving the studio, and he’s certain he took it with him, but the last time he went in to work, he went straight to Seungcheol’s place afterwards for M Countdown night and took his work bag with him.  
  
He puts all his folders and papers neatly back into his bag, a little paranoid about losing something else in the moment, and zips it close before padding to his room, looking for his phone.  
  
It’s only a little before noon, so Seungcheol is still at school, but Jihoon knows Joshua’s cafe is closed on Mondays, which means he’ll be off. He dials Joshua’s number, and he picks up on the fourth ring.  
  
“Hello,” Joshua answers, tone a little confused, like he’s surprised by Jihoon’s call, which Jihoon understands.  
  
“Hey, hyung,” Jihoon answers, trying not to sound as frantic as he is. “How’re you?”  
  
“Good,” Joshua responds brightly. “What’s up, Jihoonie?”  
  
“Um, I was wondering if I left a yellow notepad at your place last time I was there?” Jihoon asks carefully, pressing his thumb against the knuckle of his forefinger. Joshua hums over the line for a moment before he makes a small sound of recognition.  
  
“Yeah, actually,” he says. “I think it fell from your bag before you left. Cheolie kept it for you but he must have forgotten to tell you.”  
  
Jihoon sighs deeply, glad and relieved. When Joshua hears him, he laughs softly and says, “Oh no, have you been looking for it?”  
  
“Like crazy,” Jihoon responds easily, a lot calmer now that he at least knows where it is. “It’s got some of my work stuff in it. Hey, would it be okay if I came by now to pick it up? I kind of need it.”  
  
“Yeah,” Joshua agrees immediately. “Hannie and I are both home so it’s no problem.”  
  
“Thanks so much,” Jihoon says earnestly. “I’ll be there in a few.”  
  
“Sure, see you soon, Jihoonie.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Joshua opens the front door a few moments after Jihoon knocks, an easy smile on his face.  
  
“Hey,” he says as he steps aside to let Jihoon in.  
  
“Hi,” Jihoon greets back as he comes in. “Sorry for stopping by so suddenly,” he adds, turning to look at Joshua, who immediately waves a dismissive hand.  
  
“It’s no problem,” he says cheerfully, “it’s my day off, no big deal. This isn’t getting in the way of your day though, is it?”  
  
“No,” Jihoon hums, following Joshua further into the house. “I have the day off too, I just kind of needed the notes to get ready for work tomorrow.”  
  
“I get it,” Joshua says with a light laugh, and he says something else, but Jihoon misses it entirely, distracted.  
  
The curtains that usually cover the sliding doors leading to Joshua’s patio are drawn open, letting all the bright sunlight from outside in, the light spilling over the floor like sheets of white gold. On the first step of the patio are Jeonghan and Seokmin, sitting down and talking. The door is closed and their backs are turned towards the inside of the house, but Jihoon would recognize their backs anywhere, knows the wavy fall of Jeonghan’s hair when it starts to get long, knows the graceful curve of his shoulders. He knows the fluffy back of Seokmin’s head too, and the broadness of his back, knows the shape of his shoulders like the back of his own hand.  
  
Something painful with longing clenches in Jihoon’s chest. It’s only been three or four days since he last saw or talked to Seokmin, but it’s longer than they’ve gone without talking for a while, and after he called him two more times on Sunday, Jihoon can’t deny Soekmin is dodging his calls, and he _misses_ him.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Joshua says, cutting through Jihoon’s pining thoughts with a smooth voice. “Seokmin dropped by a few minutes after you called. They’re just talking, you can go out and say hi if you want,” Joshua adds, and Jihoon turns to look at him, hoping the panic he feels doesn’t show on his face. “I’m gonna go and find your notepad okay? Be right back.”  
  
Jihoon nods before Joshua turns away from him and leaves down the wall, and he watches him go for a moment before he turns to Jeonghan and Seokmin sitting outside again.  
  
Jihoon can tell Seokmin is making gestures with his hands by the movement of his shoulders, but he isn’t sure if he’s imagining the rigid posture of his back. He’s wearing the same plaid button down he wore to Jihoon’s surprise party the night of his birthday, and his hair looks copper under the light of the sun.  
  
Something makes Jihoon think it might be better for him not to go outside with them. If Seokmin really is ignoring him, then he probably doesn’t want to see Jihoon either, and seeing him in an unexpected setting might make him uncomfortable, which is the last thing Jihoon wants, even if the way Seokmin is avoiding him hurts.  
  
Another part of him can’t help but wonder if maybe all it takes is for him to just takes the extra step, wonders if he can just go out there and says hi to them, if Seokmin might look at him and smile in the way he does that always easily makes Jihoon feel better about everything. Might say hi back and reveal that there’s an easy, simple explanation for all of this, and that Jihoon has just been silly and paranoid over nothing for four days.  
  
He tugs the sliding door open a crack, but Jeonghan and Seokmin don’t notice him. They’re sitting a few feet away and locked in conversation, the sound of the sliding door maybe too quiet to catch their attention. Jihoon opens his mouth to say something, but the word dies in his mouth at what he hears.  
  
A sniffle at first, wet and quick, and a sharp inhale that feels like needle pin pricks in Jihoon’s own throat. Then, a shaky, weak voice that Jihoon doesn’t recognize as Seokmin’s at first, because he’s crying, and he’s never heard Seokmin cry before.  
  
“I don’t think he feels the same way,” he’s saying in a thin voice that cracks in the middle of his sentence and immediately makes Jihoon’s heart clench, immediately makes him hate hearing Seokmin sound so small and vulnerable. He sounds a lot like that first night he called Jihoon, actually, when he was worried about his performance for the musical, only worse.  
  
“I understand,” Jeonghan responds in a voice that contrasts Seokmin in the way that it’s calm, gentle and comforting in that honey smooth way Jeonghan has. “But,” he says next, “ you can’t know that if you don't talk to him.”  
  
Jeonghan’s words are followed by a thick, heavy pause. Without realizing it, Jihoon holds his breath. He’s staring at Seokmin’s back, realizes with certainty that his posture _is_ rigid and tight, but neither Seokmin nor Jeonghan notice him at all. Jihoon feels like a spectator where the other participants don’t know the fourth wall has been broken, and something about that makes him feel really guilty, but he still can’t manage to turn away.  
  
Seokmin gives a gasping cry that makes Jihoon’s heart twinge painfully, reedy and broken. Then, Seokmin says, “I’m just so scared I’ve ruined everything in some way,” in a watery, frail voice that’s so quiet, Jihoon almost doesn’t hear him over the sound of a door opening behind him.  
  
Realizing what the sound is, a sudden flash of panic rushes through Jihoon, worried at being caught and Jeonghan and Seokmin seeing him now. Jihoon quickly, quietly, tugs the sliding door close again before he backtracks from it and turns around to meet Joshua halfway in the living room.  
  
“Hey, sorry,” Joshua says with a smile as he holds up Jihoon’s notepad. “I had to go through Cheolie’s things to find it. Oh, hey,” he says then, in a different tone, a frown of vague concern coloring his brow. “You okay?”  
  
Jihoon pauses, reflexively lifting his eyes to Joshua’s, and wonders what his face looks like in the reflection of Joshua’s eyes. He feels a little shaken, feels a little like someone has pried him open to reveal all the ugly parts inside of him, the parts that listen in on his friends’ private conversations and listen to the person he’s in love with cry without being able to do or say anything.  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon says, voice shaky and unconvincing even to his own ears, but he still reaches forward to take proffered notepad from Joshua’s hand. “Thanks, hyung.”  
  
“Sure,” Joshua says gently, but he’s still looking at Jihoon curiously. “You sure, though? You look, I don’t know,” he hesitates, “a little spooked.”  
  
Jihoon forces himself to smile politely, but he doesn’t know how well he manages it. “Sorry, no, I guess it was just the stress, but I’m relieved now. Thanks for finding this,” he says, gesturing with said notepad.  
  
Joshua nods again, and some of the worried tension eases from his face, but not entirely, and Jihoon needs to get out of here, right now.  
  
“Well,” he says shortly. “I need to go home and, uh. Get some work done. Thanks again, hyung,” Jihoon says, already turning to walk to the door. Joshua looks at him like he wants to say something else, but then seems to think better of it, or maybe doesn’t know what he _should_ say, so instead he walks Jihoon to the door and sees him off.  
  
 **** ****

* * *

 **  
**On Wednesday night, Jihoon messages his group chat with Seungcheol and Soonyoung to tell them he’s getting off work early and would they like to come over and have take out dinner at his place? To which Soonyoung replies with a thumbs up sticker, and Seungcheol offers to pick it up on his way over if Jihoon still pays for it.  
  
They don’t knock before coming in. Instead, Jihoon hears the lock on his front door turn and Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s chatter as they let themselves into his apartment.  
  
“Hey,” Jihoon calls from his kitchen so they know where he is, and a moment later they come in after him. Seungcheol is carrying the takeout bag in his hand while Soonyoung helps him carry the drink holder. “How’d you guys get pass the intercom at the front door?” Jihoon asks as Seungcheol sets the paper bag on the kitchen counter and starts taking out different containers. He’s been wondering about this since his birthday, actually.  
  
“I know your code,” Soonyoung says brightly as he starts to help Jihoon take plates down from his cupboards. Jihoon blinks at him blankly, then sighs deeply.  
  
“Nothing is sacred anymore, I don’t even have privacy in my own home.”  
  
“The funny thing is, we couldn’t get in here without each other before,” Seungcheol says without looking at Jihoon as he folds the paper bag and puts it away in the drawer where Jihoon keeps the reusable bags, “but now I got the code from Soonyoungie while we were downstairs, so I’m covered.”  
  
“Hey,” Soonyoung cuts in quickly, looking at Jihoon with sad puppy eyes. “How come I don’t have a key here?”  
  
“Because you’d never stop showing up unannounced,” Jihoon snaps quickly, scrunching up his nose at him.  
  
“Can I have one anyway?”  
  
“If you give me one to your apartment first,” Jihoon levels back. They move around each other with familiar ease as they talk comfortably and take things out of their takeout containers and put them on proper plates, Seungcheol smiling faintly at Jihoon and Soonyoung’s bickering.  
  
“But Wonwoo has my spare key,” Soonyoung says through a pout, looking at Jihoon with round eyes. Jihoon makes a wry expression, mouth twisted and eyes narrowed.  
  
“And that means _I_ can’t have one?” he asks, exasperated, but mostly just to be annoying. It’s not like he even _wants_ a key to Soonyoung’s place. “I only have one spare and you’re asking _me_ to make you another one.”  
  
“I love it when you two get along,” Seungcheol cuts in before Soonyoung can keep whining. “Can we move into the other room, though? I’m starving.”  
  
“Pick those up,” Jihoon tells Soonyoung, nodding at the drinks on the counter before helping Seungcheol with the other plate and cutlery.  
  
“Don’t you feel like hyung talks to us like we’re his kids?” Soonyoung asks Jihoon as the three of them move into the living room.  
  
“We’ve known each other for ten years,” Jihoon says as he sits next to Seungcheol on the couch, Soonyoung on the floor in front of the coffee table across from them, “and I’ve never stopped feeling like he’s our father.”  
  
Soonyoung says, “I always wonder if Shua-hyung and Hannie-hyung knew they were getting involved with a single father when they started seeing Seungcheol.”  
  
“I don’t like the way this little joke paints the two of us,” Jihoon says, shaking his head.  
  
“I can’t tell if I’m being called old or not,” Seungcheol comments, looking between the two of them with round eyes.  
  
“Nobody’s calling you old,” Jihoon assures him, “we’re just saying you’re fatherly, in a mother hen sort of way.”  
  
Seungcheol makes an odd face, eyes flicking from side to side before he looks at Jihoon with a tilt of his head. “So am I motherly or fatherly?”  
  
“Well, you’re a man, aren’t you?” Jihoon asks, and when Seungcheol nods he goes on to say, “then, you’re fatherly, but in a gather all the baby chicks in one room and guide them sort of way. A _mother hen_ sort of way,” he explains in a tone that clearly communicates he doesn’t know why Seungcheol isn’t getting it.  
  
Seungcheol stares at him for another moment. “Whatever,” he grumbles. “Just so you know,” Seungcheol adds, “I’m not the only one who brought problem children into our relationship. You think Mingyu and Wonwoo are easy to manage?”  
  
“Probably easier than Soonyoung though,” Jihoon says quietly.  
  
“Soonyoung’s not my problem child,” Seungcheol says challengingly at Jihoon, eyes round and eyebrows raised. Jihoon gapes at him.  
  
“Excuse me?” Jihoon snaps while Soonyoung snickers to himself. “How am I more difficult than this lunatic?”  
  
“I’d take his lunacy over your stubbornness any day,” Seungcheol snaps back, with all the attitude of a pouty eight year old.  
  
“When have I been difficult?” Jihoon demands, and when Soonyoung laughs loudly, he insists, “Name one time.”  
  
Seungcheol gapes at him. “Just one? That’s all you need?” He asks, and Jihoon nods. Seungcheol nods back and puts his plate down on the coffee table, turning his body towards Jihoon and resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay, let’s start with this Monday.”  
  
Jihoon snaps his mouth shut.  
  
Seungcheol says, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”  
  
“Wait, what happened this Monday?” Soonyoung asks, eyes flicking back and forth between Jihoon and Seungcheol.  
  
Seungcheol looks at Soonyoung briefly before he turns back to Jihoon, and something about the way he looked at him makes Soonyoung raise his eyebrows and hold his mouth open in a round shape, watching the two of them with careful dread now.  
  
“Yeah, Jihoon,” Seungcheol says, “what happened Monday?”  
  
Jihoon swallows thickly, kicking himself. He needs to remember to hold his tongue during arguments he can’t coerce his way out of. He didn’t think Seungcheol would bring that up so suddenly, though.  
  
“Uh,” Jihoon wavers. “I left my notepad at your place, you forgot to give it to me.”  
  
“Sorry, it slipped my mind,” Seungcheol responds easily, then stares at Jihoon expectantly.  
  
Jihoon says, “It’s okay, I forgive you,” and tries to leave it at that, but Seungcheol tsks his tongue at him and smacks his knee. Jihoon smacks him back.  
  
“You wanna tell me why you barged out of my house and made my boyfriend worry about you?”  
  
“You made Hannie-hyung worry?” Soonyoung asks.  
  
“Worse,” Seungcheol responds, because it’s not hard to make Jeonghan worry about them. “Made Shua worry.”  
  
Gravely, Soonyoung says, “Dude,” while looking at Jihoon.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jihoon mumbles, eyes fixed on the plate on his lap. “I’ll apologize to Shua-hyung.”  
  
“That’s nice of you,” Seugcheol says, “but I’m still kind of waiting for an explanation.”  
  
Jihoon lifts his gaze, quickly glances at Seungcheol. There’s the hint of a calculating look in the shape of his eyes, but even more prominent is the concerned frown he’s wearing, one that Jihoon realizes is eerily similar to Joshua’a. He considers playing dumb, or flat out refusing to tell them anything, but in light of this new information saying he’s _stubborn_ , Jihoon is not sure how well that would work out for him. Anyway, if Jihoon is completely honest to himself, the reason why he invited them over in the first place was to talk to them about this, and maybe it’s better that someone else brought it up before he did, because Jihoon isn’t sure he would have been able to.  
  
“Okay, um,” Jihoon stammers, shifting in his seat for a moment, pushing stir fried vegetables around his plate. “Well, Seokmin was there.”  
  
Seungcheol pauses expectantly, but when Jihoon doesn’t say anything else, he sighs deeply, probably far too used to Jihoon’s way of communicating. “Yeah,” he says, “Joshua mentioned that. He thought it was weird you didn’t stay to say hi to him, or Hannie. Hannie hadn’t even realized you were there,” Seungcheol adds.  
  
Jihoon raises his hand to fidget with the lobe of his ear as he holds the words in his mouth. He feels awkward now, doesn’t know how to say everything without embarrassing himself. He always takes himself too seriously when he doesn’t mean to, and with both Soonyoung and Seungcheol’s attention on him, he can’t help feeling nervous, heart pounding in his chest.  
  
Well, either way, he’s not getting out of talking about this now, he thinks as he drops his hand on top of his thigh, so he might as well be forward about it.  
  
“Seokmin kissed me,” Jihoon says shortly. His words are followed by a very brief pause of silence that is quickly interrupted by the sound of Soonyoung coughing, choking on his vegetables.  
  
Seungcheol and Jihoon both turn to look at him, and Jihoon makes a face at him. “God, Soonyoung,” he says in minor disgust. What a way to break the tension, though, leave it to Soonyoung.  
  
Soonyoung widens his eyes at him even as he coughs into his hand. Seungcheol makes a sympathetic noise as he reaches across the table to put Soonyoung’s drink in his hand.  
  
“See,” Jihoon mumbles as they both watch Soonyoung gulp his drink, “fatherly, but in a mother hen sort of way.”  
  
“Dude,” Soonyoung croaks after he’s done drinking and able to speak again. “I _just_ found out you’re, like, actually in love with him, which,” he adds, making a gesture with his hand, “not a shocker, really, but now you’re telling me he _kissed_ you. What the fuck.”  
  
“This was at my house?” Seungcheol asks carefully even as Jihoon is still staring at Soonyoung, scrunching his nose at him again and giving a distasteful look that Soonyoung levels back with round eyes and a gaping mouth.  
  
“No,” Jihoon sighs as he turns to look at Seungcheol instead, and then starts to feel nervous again. “Um, it was last Thursday, after M Countdown. While we were walking home.”  
  
“Kissed you like,” Soonyoung waves his hand in circular motions in front of him, “like. Kissed you like how?”  
  
“It was on the cheek,” Jihoon tells him before Soonyoung can start coming up with wild assumptions about what happened, and when he says it aloud, it sounds like a small, silly thing. It shouldn’t make him feel this crazy, but it does.  
  
“Oh,” Soonyoung says gently, and then his face changes and he coos, “aww. Wait though,” he adds quickly, “was it, like. I mean, was it like when I kiss you on the cheek and you push me off, or what?” he trails off, waiting for Jihoon to fill in the blank.  
  
Jihoon feels tired already. Seungcheol is watching the exchange between them calmly, a surprised glint in his eye, but the concerned frown hasn’t left his face, bless his heart. Jihoon wonders if he should have talked to Seungcheol about this alone. He loves Soonyoung, and he values his insight and opinions too when it actually comes down to it, but he should have expected his initial reaction to be exhausting.  
  
“I didn’t push him off,” Jihoon says as he rubs a hand down the side of his face. “It wasn’t like that.”  
  
“What was it like then?” Seungcheol asks gently. Jihoon looks at him again, then sighs as he puts his plate down as well.  
  
“I don’t know, I mean,” he shrugs and wavers for a moment. “Kind of date-y?” he says, unsure. “It _felt_ date-y, like, we were talking on the way home and he was saying all these nice things,” he pauses, breathes out deeply. “And then, you know when you go on a date, and you walk them home, and you give them a kiss on the cheek because a proper kiss feels a little too much like coming on? Or like,” he hesitates, trying to find the proper portrayal of it, of the gentle way Seokmin kissed his cheek and the warmth he left behind, before it all startled to get tangled up and confusing.  
  
“Or just because a kiss on the cheek feels sweeter, more appropriate,” Seungcheol supplies, nodding when Jihoon nods in agreement. “Yeah, I get it. So what happened?”  
  
Jihoon hesitates, raising his shoulders. “I don’t know. I feel like he could have been all like, homie kissing the homies, you know, and it would have been fine, but,” he pauses, quirking his head to the side. “His face totally changed after, like I couldn’t describe it to you, and then he apologized, and then he left me there by myself,” Jihoon recounts, finishing in a small voice.  
  
“Oh,” Soonyoung says in a similarly small voice, the excited glint in his eyes quickly being replaced by something sorry and sympathetic. “Well, did you go after him?”  
  
Jihoon shakes his head, then gestures with his hands when Soonyoung raises his eyebrows at him, palms up. “I was surprised! I didn’t know what to do, like. I swear to god I stood there for a life and a half, like an idiot, sure, but c’mon.”  
  
“Okay, well, did you call him when you got home?” Soonyoung follows up, the look on his face like maybe hope isn’t lost on Jihoon.  
  
Jihoon pauses, then winces, already knowing he’s going to disappoint Soonyoung.  
  
“Dude,” Soonyoung says again in the same grave tone from before, and then doesn’t say anything else.  
  
“Look, I don’t know,” Jihoon says defensively, a little helpless, which he is. “I don’t know what came over me, and I just. I thought I’d see him at Saturday lunch with hyung and Seungkwanie, and we’d talk about it afterwards, you know?”  
  
“But Seokminie didn’t go on Saturday,” Seungcheol mentions for Jihoon, “Hannie told us when he got home, said he was busy.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon agrees with a nod, “and then I started to get worried, so I called him when I got home, and I called him again that night, and twice more on Sunday, but he’s gone totally MIA on me.”  
  
Jihoon can’t properly explain how much that hurts him, the way Seokmin has been avoiding him. It’s the most painful part of this, so far, not having Seokmin around or being able to talk to him. Feeling lost and confused and not being able to tell Seokmin about it, or worse yet, that Jihoon might have hurt Seokmin in some way without realizing it and not being able to fix it. He realizes he’s only known Seokmin a few months, has known him the least amount of time than any of the other guys, but it was enough for him to become an important and integral part of Jihoon's life. Not having Seokmin around has left behind a gaping vacancy and a horrible ache in his heart that he didn’t expect only because he never imagined being away from Seokmin.  
  
“What about Monday?” Seungcheol asks gently, tapping Jihoon’s knee.  
  
Jihoon takes a fortifying breath as he twines his own hands together, rubs the heels of his hands against each other. “He got there before I did, but he was talking to Jeonghan-hyung. I was going to say hi to both of them, but uh. They didn’t notice me, and I accidentally overheard some of their conversation.” He meets Soonyoung’s eyes, then turns his head to look at Seungcheol, who watches Jihoon with a careful, hesitant light in his eyes.  
  
“Hannie told us he was really upset about something, but he wouldn’t tell us what they talked about. I mean,” Seungcheol adds, “we didn’t really ask. I thought it might not be my place.”  
  
Jihoon sighs softly, then leans back against his couch, head resting over the back as he rubs his forehead with his fingers. “I shouldn’t have listened in. I didn’t _mean_ to listen in, it was an accident.” Jihoon pauses, unsure. He shouldn’t have heard any of it himself, much less should he talk to others about it, even if it’s Seungcheol and Soonyoung. “I’m just so confused,” he says instead, a little desperately. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”  
  
“Hoonie-yah, you have to talk to him. I’m sure this is just some kind of misunderstanding,” Soonyoung says softly, and Jihoon sits up to look at him.  
  
“Yeah, but what _kind_ ?” Jihoon demands quietly, runs a hand through his hair as he says it and holds his hair back from his face. “What if it was just a mistake? Like, he didn’t mean to kiss me and he doesn’t know how to tell me because he knows I’m in love with him? _Or_ ,” Jihoon says with emphasis before he’s interrupted, gesturing with his free hand. “What if he did mean to, but after it happened he realized it was a mistake and he doesn’t know how to tell me that either? I don’t,” Jihoon cuts off with a huff and he lets his hair go, drops his hands to his thighs, feeling defeated. “I don’t know. If this is what it’s going to be like, I would rather give the kiss back and Seokmin never know about my feelings for him.”  
  
Seungcheol and Soonyoung listen to him, quiet and patient, and wait a pause after he’s done before Seungcheol gently asks, “What do you mean?”  
  
Jihoon sighs deeply, for the upteenth time this afternoon, and the gazillionth time this week. “I mean,” he starts, “if it means ruining my friendship with Seokmin and making things awkward, I would rather not tell him how I feel and for things to go back to the way they were. Being friends with him is better than not being able to talk to him.”  
  
Jihoon means it, too. If telling Seokmin about his feelings means Seokmin pulling away from him, Jihoon would rather keep his sorry heart to himself. He would rather have Seokmin as a steady, comforting presence in his life than ruin their friendship and twist it into something awkward and uncomfortable, or worse still, not have Seokmin at all.  
  
He _likes_ being Seokmin’s friend, is the thing. They work well together, and Jihoon enjoys that he can just _be_ with Seokmin, feels content and comfortable when he’s with him. He likes Seokmin, is the other thing, likes him generally for who he is, and Jihoon isn’t willing to sacrifice their friendship or the time they spend together on a thread of hope that might end up snapping with the weight of rejection.  
  
Jihoon likes talking to Seokmin, feels happy to be someone Seokmin confides in, someone he invites to his plays, and he would like to keep being someone like that in Seokmin’s life. It’s only been a few days and Jihoon already can’t handle the way they’re not talking, misses Seokmin’s sporadic text messages throughout the day and his voice over the phone. He doesn’t want to lose a single thing about his friendship with Seokmin.  
  
Of course, the way Seokmin and he get along is a big part of _why_ Jihoon fell in love with him in the first place. Jihoon doesn’t ever want to not be friends with Seokmin, but he doesn’t know what being friends with Seokmin fully aware that the option of _being_ with him is completely off the table. Jihoon has never allowed himself to think about it.  
  
“I understand,” Seungcheol says, and Jihoon remembers hearing Jeonghan say that to Seokmin as well, and he thinks of how they say couples who spend a long time together start to resemble each other. “But maybe you should think of talking to him, anyway. You can’t just leave things as they are. I don’t think you _want_ to leave things as they are,” Seungcheol adds gently.  
  
“No,” Jihoon admits honestly, “I don’t. I miss him. And I feel like I made him sad, too, somehow, and I don’t like that.”  
  
“Also,” Soonyoung adds from where he’s sitting. “It’s not like Seokmin _won’t_ be in your life, because all of your friends are his friends too, and he’s ours now, so if nothing else, you need to work this out so things don’t get weird with everyone else.”  
  
Jihoon looks at Soonyoung and thinks, for one, that Soonyoung should never be underestimated, because despite him acting like a crazy person most of the time, he’s deceptively mature, always reminds Jihoon of the small realities he needs to hear. But for another, Jihoon is reminded that he’s not the only one who loves Seokmin, loves having him in their group, and he’s so glad for that, because Seokmin is someone who deserves having a lot of people who care about him.  
  
Jihoon nods carefully. “I know, you’re right,” he says to both of them. “I’ll figure it out. I promise.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Seungcheol and Soonyoung leave about an hour later, but Jihoon keeps thinking about their conversation even after they’re gone.  
  
He takes the risk and calls Seokmin one more time. The phone rings twice before it goes right to voicemail, and Jihoon takes a moment to let himself feel hopeless and frustrated, sighing harshly and dropping his phone beside him on the couch. He tilts his head back and blankly stares at the ceiling for a long time.  
 **  
******

* * *

**  
**On Friday night, Jihoon meets with Beomju, the artist who wants to record Jihoon’s song, and the artist’s manager.  
  
In truth, the purpose of the meeting has more to do with formalities and politeness than anything else. Jihoon is still only an apprentice working under Beomju, so he handled the task of pitching Jihoon’s song to artists he thought would be interested or whose audience Jihoon’s song might appeal to. A lot of producers and writers never even work with each other or the artist they’re writing for face to face for certain songs, and maybe that's why Jihoon still feels a little nervous before the meeting, even if he knows it’s basically a done deal, that all they’re doing is discussing rights and signing a contract.  
  
Just before the artist arrives at the studio, Beomju tries to ease Jihoon by reminding him the meeting will be a short, standard ordeal, but it starts before Jihoon even has the chance to nod and reluctantly agree with him.  
  
Prior to them showing an interest in his song, Jihoon had never heard of the artist his song will be going to. He had delved into their music after Beomju had told him about them, of course, and found himself pleasantly surprised, but he likes them even more after he gets the chance to properly meet them.  
  
They chat between each other before any official discussions happen, laid back and comfortable. Jihoon is asked about his writing process, which he feels a little embarrassed to be asked about in person, and in turn he asks why the interest in his song. It becomes the second time Jihoon listens to someone tell him how well the song conveys so much honesty and emotion.  
  
For a brief, insane moment, Jihoon considers sharing the fact that he wrote it about the person he’s in love with, but he decides to fold up the thought like a scrap of paper and tuck it away in some corner of his mind. He can sell his song and he can let someone else sing it on the radio and he can let the people who will listen to it might interpret it however it fits them, but he decides in that moment that only he gets to know what or who the song is really about. Only he gets to know about the moments he held close to his heart while he wrote it, the feelings in between the lines and bars, Seokmin’s voice in his ear during a late phone call, his voice in his head while lyrics fell from the heart sewed on Jihoon’s sleeve.  
  
It’s a weird experience, being the least experienced person in the room and receiving most of the praise. It makes Jihoon feel perpetually embarrassed, but he thinks he hides it well for most of the meeting. Before long, they’re discussing which parts of rights go to who, selling percentages, and in even less time after that, Jihoon is signing a contract.  
  
Beomju and Jihoon properly send off the artist and their manager at the door as they say goodbye for the night, and after they’re gone, Beomju turns to Jihoon and actually hugs him, which is the first time that’s happened.  
  
“Congratulations, kid,” Beomju says once they pull away from each other, a hand still on Jihoon’s shoulder.  
  
“Thanks,” Jihoon says quickly, a little flustered, but a bout of sentimentality overtakes him then and he shakes his head, lowers his eyes, and tries again. “I mean, thank you,” he repeats, “you know, for taking me on, and helping me get to this. I don’t know that I would have been able to do it without your help.”  
  
Beomju makes a dismissive gesture with his hand and shrugs as he says, “Always believed you could do it,” with a grin, and a quietly proud look in his eyes that only makes Jihoon feel more embarrassed. But he says it in such an easy, casual way that Jihoon lets it go, lets the unsaid things settle between them in the moments of comfortable silence.  
  
Beomju wants to take him out for drinks to celebrate, but he has a prior engagement at home, and they’re both tired, so they take a raincheck for another night and instead decide to clean up and close the studio for the night.  
  
It’s a cold, windy night that greets Jihoon when he comes outside and starts walking to the subway station. He has to keep his hands in his pocket to keep them from going numb in the cold, and he keeps his face down in an attempt to not catch the cold bite of the wind against his cheeks. **  
****  
**Jihoon takes the subway home by himself. It seems to be a busy Friday night because there are people on the train dressed for going out, couples standing close together, and people dressed in suits probably heading home after a workday. Despite it being on the cluttered side, Jihoon finds a seat towards one end of the train, and as he settles in, he wonders why something in him feels off.  
  
It’s not that he isn’t happy about signing the contract and his song selling, because he is. He wonders, though, what the point of obtaining achievements and reaching goals is when you don’t have anyone to share them with. Jihoon has friends who love and support him and parents who just want him to be happy. He’s lucky enough to not be someone who doesn’t have people to share happy moments with, and here is, upset that he can’t tell one person, that the one person he wants to tell is the same one who won’t talk to him right now.  
  
What does it say about him, that he just reached this first, wonderful milestone in his career and he still refuses to feel content about it because he can’t tell the person he wanted to share it with most about it?  
  
Maybe, Jihoon considers, it’s much more simple than that. Maybe it’s as simple as wanting the person you love to be as involved in your life as you have imagined them to be.  
  
The truth is, before this week, Jihoon had just assumed that whether his song got signed or not, Seokmin would be the first person he would tell about it.  
  
The bigger truth is, Seokmin is the one person Jihoon wants to share everything with, whether good or bad. When Jihoon has a nice day, he thinks of how he can’t wait to tell Seokmin about it. When Jihoon has a long tiring day, Seokmin is the only person he wants to talk to, the only person who could make it better just by being himself and being around.  
  
Jihoon doesn’t know how he let himself fall so deeply without noticing it. He has grown so used to having Seokmin in his life that not talking to him feels like a new, strange alternation on reality, even though a few months ago, Jihoon didn’t even know Seokmin existed.  
  
He doesn’t like thinking about that, though. Because he does know Seokmin now, knows how truly kind and wonderful he is. He couldn’t do anything about it when they hadn’t met, but Jihoon doesn’t want to know what it would be like to know Seokmin and then lose him.  
  
The mere idea of it, of knowing who Seokmin is and the way his eyes light up when he laughs, of being around him but not being someone close to him, makes something essential and deep hurt in Jihoon’s chest. It doesn’t hurt in a grand way that something like art can be made out of, it doesn’t hurt like the greatest heartache of all time, but it hurts. It hurts in a narrow, jagged way that feels like something small and prominent has snapped inside Jihoon. It’s frustrating, and it makes him feel small and helpless. He doesn’t like it.  
  
Before any of this happened, Jihoon thought he could set his feelings aside and easily pretend that the enormity of what he feels for Seokmin isn’t overwhelming him, but the longer he goes without him, the more he realizes that’s not true. Jihoon _wants_ to be with him, in every sense of the word. He loves being friends with Seokmin, and if that was all Seokmin wanted from him, Jihoon would have to understand and respect that, but he couldn’t deny the part of him that wanted more, and he refused to give up without at least trying to get his feelings across. He doesn’t think he has it in him anymore, to leave his heart aimless without consideration.  
  
Instead of going to his apartment after the subway arrives at his station, Jihoon marches his way from the train station to Seokmin’s apartment, mind made up. One way or another, he and Seokmin are going to talk about this and figure it out together. He’s tired of feeling left up in the air without a clue as to what happened and he’s full of so much aching and longing that Jihoon doesn’t know what to do with it anymore. Above all, even if it’s over different things, he knows they’re both hurting, and he hates the thought of Seokmin being sad, especially the thought of him being the one who made him feel that way. Enough is enough.  
  
He’s halfway to Seokmin’s apartment when it starts to rain. It starts with small droplets of water that fall on his cheeks and the back of his hands. They gradually grow into bigger, more consistent showers of rain. The sound of pouring showers is sudden and shocking to Jihoon before it distorts into white noise, the even sound of so many raindrops hitting the pavement at once, tangled with the sound of the wind blowing through the scattered trees and the buildings leading up to Seokmin’s apartment complex.  
  
Jihoon spares one moment to look up at the sky in disbelief, but he keeps walking, unwilling to let the rain stop him. He’s already halfway there, he’s not going to turn around now.  
  
Still, he can’t help but think of how this might be considered as a bad omen by some. In the same idea, it’s possible there are others who could see it as a positive one, the sign of something being washed away before something else begins. For Jihoon, he can only remember running through the rain behind Seokmin, the feeling of their hands clasped together, Seokmin’s hand warm against his even under the cold rain.  
  
Jihoon is soaking wet by the time he reaches Seokmin’s apartment complex. The rain has soaked through his clothes, which are now clinging to his skin and weighing him down in equal parts. His hair is matted to his forehead and the back of his neck, dripping water into his already wet face. Most of all, Jihoon is cold.  
  
He takes the stairs.  
  
Seokmin lives on the seventh floor, which Jihoon valiantly climbs to without stopping. He can’t be sure if it helps in getting the jittery nerves out of him, or if it makes them worse by making his heart race and his lungs breathless, but by the time Jihoon is standing in front of Seokmin’s door, he has to stop to take a few deep, even breaths.  
  
Jihoon waits until he can breathe without the movement of his shoulders being so visible before he knocks on Seokmin’s door, three even rasps of his knuckles against the wood of the door.  
  
He counts the seconds in his head, one two three, heart in his chest and the sound of his blood pumping in his ears, four five six, and the doorknob clicks and turns before the door falls open to reveal Seokmin.  
  
Seokmin, dressed in very soft and warm looking clothes, with fluffy, disheveled hair. He looks good, Jihoon thinks dumbly, suddenly realizing how much he missed and needed to see Seokmin’s face. The lines around his face are more serious and somber than Jihoon is used to seeing him, though, and maybe his eyes are a little tired, but it’s almost nine in the evening after what might have been a long day at work, and maybe Jihoon is just glad to see him at all. He remembers the last time he had seen Seokmin, how his back had been turned to Jihoon and he had been crying, and the time before that, the last time Jihoon had actually seen Seokmin, how it ended with Seokmin walking away from him.  
  
Seokmin looks at him once before he actually sees Jihoon. He quickly blinks twice before his eyebrows draw up in surprise and a concerned light colors his eyes.  
  
“Hyung?” Seokmin says, like Jihoon might not be real, or might not be actually standing there. “Hyung,” he says again, a little more sure, “you’re soaking wet.”  
  
Jihoon knows he’s wet. “I know,” he says. “It started raining on my way here, and I didn’t have an umbrella because I didn’t know it would rain.”  
  
“You,” Seokmin stammers, looking Jihoon up and down before he reaches forward and takes Jihoon by the arm, tugs him inside. “God, you must be freezing,” he’s saying as he closes the door behind Jihoon, who can’t help but stare and watch Seokmin’s face as he moves.  
  
His hand on Jihoon’s arm is warm and gentle, and he looks confused, Jihoon thinks, but equally worried. He stands in front of Jihoon and doesn’t look at Jihoon’s face, but at Jihoon’s hair and the dress shirt that he wore to work for his meeting today, soaked through and clinging to Jihoon’s shoulders like a second skin. He lets go of Jihoon’s arm and then seems to hold both hands near Jihoon’s general space, like he doesn’t know what to do with them.  
  
“Why,” Seokmin breathes, like the sound has escaped him, before he drops his hands with a short sigh. “Here, come in, I’ll get you a towel, okay?”  
  
Before Jihoon can respond or even nod his head, Seokmin turns around and leaves him standing there. Jihoon looks down at himself. It’s the second time he’s stood in Seokmin’s apartment dripping water all over his floors.  
  
Calmly, Jihoon takes off his shoes and his kind of wet socks, which he tucks into his shoes before stepping further into Seokmin’s apartment. The floor heating is on and Jihoon wiggles his cold toes against the warmth, feels waves of cold starting to seep out of his feet. He looks up and around, but Seokmin’s apartment looks just the same as the last time he was here. Folded blanket over the back of the couch. There’s an opened can of soda and a can of iced tea on the coffee table. Bookcase filled with Seokmin’s CDs and books and the framed picture of him and his mom. Off to the side of the shelf, hanging from a small command hook, is a nosegay of flowers tied around the stems by a string and hanging upside down from the hook.  
  
Seokmin comes back with quick footsteps and holding a gray towel, which he quickly unfolds as he nears Jihoon. He doesn’t stop to say anything before he’s placing the towel over Jihoon’s head and rubbing his hair dry, hands fussy and careful.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Seokmin asks gently, voice edged with worry. Jihoon can only see their feet standing toe to toe from under the towel. “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Jihoon answers quietly, but he isn’t. It’s been a week since he’s even talked to Seokmin, let alone been anywhere near him, and having him so close all of a sudden, with his concerned hands on Jihoon, is making him feel overwhelmed. He knows he came here to do something, but his thoughts are messy and cluttered in his head, heart thudding hard in his chest. “I just needed to talk to you,” Jihoon says, honest, “and this seemed the simplest way to do it.”  
  
As quickly as they were on him, Seokmin’s hands stop fussing over him. They freeze on Jihoon’s head before they move away. From where he is looking down under the towel, Jihoon can see Seokmin’s feet back away from him. He takes the towel off his head and looks up, looks at Seokmin’s suddenly blank expression as he stands away from Jihoon.  
  
“Oh,” Seokmin says as Jihoon starts to pat his face dry with the towel, just to busy his hands. “Okay, sure,” Seokmin says, but he looks very small all of a sudden, arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to take up less space in his own apartment.  
  
Jihoon’s heart feels like it shrinks down at the sight of him and he can’t help but feel a little sorry he came. This is what was keeping him from doing this, he thinks as the nerves start to take over again. Pushing Seokmin in a way he doesn’t mean to push him, making him sad or uncomfortable. The sight of him makes Jihoon hurt, makes him want to wrap his arms around Seokmin and apologize for whatever it is he did that makes him look this way, that makes him go to Jeonghan with tears in his eyes and sounding the most heartbroken Jihoon has ever heard him.  
  
“Um,” Jihoon wavers, all the words that had been running through his head suddenly dying in his throat. Seokmin looks at him and meets his eyes with a bright, sad gaze, and Jihoon panics. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Seokmin starts crying in front of him. He cowers a little and looks away from Seokmin, right at the posy of flowers on the wall behind him.  
  
“What are those?” Jihoon asks stupidly, weirdly distracted by the flowers as he points to them with a nod of his head. Seokmin blinks and, understandably, looks at him oddly before he turns his head to look at what Jihoon is gesturing at.  
  
“Oh,” Seokmin says, a little perplexed. “They’re dried flowers,” he tells Jihoon, who keeps staring at them.  
  
“Why do they look familiar?” Jihoon asks. He can’t quite place it, and maybe it’s a trick of his memory, because they must look very different than when they were new and fresh. The flowers on Seokmin’s wall look like they have been stripped of extra foliage, and a little faded and crisp. The flowers Jihoon thinks he might be associating them with were wrapped in paper and much brighter.  
  
“Uh,” Seokmin hesitates as he reaches up to scratch at the side of his head, eyes anywhere but on Jihoon. “Probably because those are the flowers you gave me?”  
  
He says it like a question, unsure, but as soon as he says it, Jihoon is sure they are, remembers them clearly now, remembers how he kept switching the hand he held them with so he wouldn’t wrinkle the paper or rub his sweaty hands all over them. Remembers the gentle, private smile on Seokmin’s face when Jihoon gave them to him, how quietly happy he had looked when he told Jihoon no one had ever given him flowers for a show before.  
  
“Most people put their flowers in water,” Jihoon says quietly, watching Seokmin now instead of the flowers. As Seokmin takes a deep breath, his cheeks seem to turn bright with color. He looks confused again, in a different way than he did when Jihoon got here, like he doesn’t understand why they’re talking about this.  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin agrees, voice wavering. “But they last longer this way, and it’s just as easy. Except for the baby’s breath,” he adds, seemingly as an afterthought, “I had to separate them first, and they really like to cling to each other.”  
  
Seokmin is looking at the flowers and Jihoon is looking at him, at the golden tones of his skin and how the light of his apartment is glimmering off the surface of Seokmin’s sharp cheekbone, the way his hair is dark brown in this lightning instead of the copper color it is under sunlight.  
  
Rain is still falling against his window and making the city lights outside into big bright flares.  
  
Jihoon thinks of Seokmin coming home the night after his play and unwrapping the flowers Jihoon gave him, instead of going to bed like he had promised Jihoon. He thinks of him carefully, tediously separating each stem of flower, of his long and slender fingers gently taking off the extra leaves until only the flower blooms remained. He thinks of Seokmin’s hand holding a twine of string and wrapping it around the stem of flowers held together, the repeated movement of his hand going around and around the flowers like a ritual step. He thinks of the calm, relaxed expression Seokmin might have worn while he worked, the caring, gentle effort he put in just to keep Jihoon’s flowers a little longer.  
  
Jihoon feels the way his affections gradually well up inside him all over again, his feelings for Seokmin overwhelming him once more. He has never known anyone like Seokmin, anyone as kind or as earnest. Jihoon doesn’t know if he deserves him, doesn’t know what makes people deserving of each other or if there is any reality to that, but he knows he loves Seokmin, loves him so much that his heart feels ready to burst with it, and he _wants_ him, wants to be with him.  
  
“I love you,” Jihoon says. The words fall out of his mouth a lot easier than he ever thought they would, in a soft voice and a sure tone. He knows he can’t take them back, but he also finds himself surprisingly okay with that. There is no going back from this for him, and that’s okay.  
  
Seokmin turns his head to look at him. His eyes are round as he blinks at Jihoon, lips parted just so. Jihoon can’t read his expression.  
  
“What?” Seokmin asks in a quiet breath, like it’s been punched out of him, and Jihoon nods.  
  
“I love you,” Jihoon repeats, and after he says it, his throat closes up and he has to take a deep, stuttering breath. He doesn’t know what his face looks like, but he can practically feel all his emotions written across his face, the desperation buzzing under his skin and the feelings that make his heart and mind a tangled mess. After he repeats the words, Seokmin’s face takes on more of a surprised expression, brows drawn together and eyes wider than Jihoon has seen them. His face is turning a charming shade of pink and his mouth hangs open. He has no idea what Seokmin is thinking, but Jihoon doesn’t let it deter him.  
  
“I’m in love with you,” Jihoon says, feeling more sure of himself even as Seokmin makes a shocked, breathy sound. “That’s what I came here to tell you. I’ve been in love with you for months, and I just needed you to know.” Jihoon is very aware of the fact that he’s standing in Seokmin’s living room with water running down his back from his wet shirt and water dripping on Seokmin’s floor from his pants. He knows he probably looks like a drowned rat, and shivering to boot, despite the way his face and neck are starting to feel warm from the words he’s saying.  
  
“I don’t know what happened last week,” Jihoon says in a rush, breath stuttering in his lungs as for the hundredth time he thinks of Seokmin pulling away from him after placing the sweetest kiss on Jihoon’s cheek. “Or why you’re shutting me out, but I’m sorry. Whatever it is I did to make you pull away from me, I’m sorry. But I needed you to know. I love you,” Jihoon says, sounds a little helpless even to his own ears. Seokmin makes another soft sound, quiet and pitiful, as he draws forward. Jihoon looks up at him, eyes wide and surprised, and he opens his mouth to say something, he doesn’t know what, but it dies in his throat as, just as quickly as the first time it happened, Seokmin kisses him.  
  
Seokmin kisses him _properly_ this time. His hands are on Jihoon’s cheeks, warm fingers cradling Jihoon’s face, his wet hair getting water on the tips of Seokmin’s fingers. His lips feel as soft and warm as they did on the skin of Jihoon’s cheek, except they’re on his lips now, and Jihoon gasps at the reality of that, gasps right into Seokmin’s mouth.  
  
Jihoon doesn’t have words for the feeling that bursts in his chest. He writes more lyrics than he can count and somehow he still doesn’t have words for the way it feels like a dam has broken in his chest, all of the feelings and emotions he has been holding back rushing out like a fierce gush of water.  
  
Suddenly, Jihoon feels desperate. Through all the aching and longing and wondering, he has grown greedy for Seokmin, desperation and a terrifying sort of joy making his heart race, the sound of his blood pumping thudding in his ears.  
  
His hands come up around Seokmin’s back, fingers pressed against Seokmin’s shoulder blades, the jut of bone curved into the Jihoon’s palms. He can feel the warmth radiating from Seokmin’s body in his hands, on his cheeks and against his chest. More importantly, Jihoon can feel the way Seokmin’s mouth presses against him, insistent and uncoordinated, how Seokmin kisses him, deep and unrelenting. Jihoon feels like his breath has been caught in Seokmin’s mouth and a little like he’s at Seokmin’s mercy, which is fitting, he thinks. Even though he’s the one who came here to profess his affections, Seokmin has always had him in the palm of his hand, wrapped around his little finger.  
  
Jihoon feels open and vulnerable, feels exposed to be explored and mapped out by Seokmin, laid bare to where he can trace all of the lines and cracks that make Jihoon into who he is, the soft and weak parts, the ugly and jagged, the secret and tender.  
  
It’s better than Jihoon ever imagined, even with how little he let himself imagine something like this. It’s perfect. It feels like more than a kiss, feels like admission, like something Seokmin is trying to convey into the shape of Jihoon’s mouth, but Jihoon can’t think, can’t concentrate on anything but the firm press of Seokmin’s lips against his.  
  
Seokmin kisses him for a long time, which Jihoon should have expected. He should have expected Seokmin being able to do this for a long time after seeing the sort of breath control Seokmin has when it comes to singing. Seokmin kisses him for a long time, long enough that Jihoon grows breathless against him, and he doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t know what kind of spell he might break by pulling away from Seokmin, what dream he might wake from, but he was caught off guard and his lungs ache and he’s starting to feel like he’s going crazy.  
  
He’s breathing hard when he pulls away from Seokmin, each breath he takes coming in as a gasp. Seokmin doesn’t let him go too far anyway, holds him close and lets Jihoon rest his forehead against his collarbone as he catches his breath. The moment that passes between them is quiet and tender, Seokmin’s hands still gently holding Jihoon’s cheeks as Jihoon relishes in the warm skin of Seokmin’s neck pressed against his chilled face, how wrapped up in Seokmin he feels.  
  
The moment comes and goes quickly, though. Jihoon’s heart feels so overcome with feeling, it’s pounding against his chest and thudding in Jihoon’s ears and the only thing Jihoon can think about is Seokmin, Seokmin’s mouth against his and his hands on him and his breath against the skin of Jihoon’s cheek and that’s why in a helpless, breathless voice Jihoon says Seokmin’s name right against the skin of his collarbones.  
  
It seems to do something to Seokmin, who immediately tilts Jihoon’s face up and takes his breath away in another fierce, searing kiss. Jihoon makes an embarrassing high sound against Seokmin’s lips and with surprising calmness he realizes Seokmin might just be the death of him. Jihoon doesn’t even mind.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It goes like this:  
  
They don’t talk about it, but somehow they both decide to move into Seokmin’s room, something that proves to be tedious when they both refuse to stop kissing long enough to get there.  
  
Jihoon learns his longing has evolved layers and progressions, has given him an unbridled want he doesn’t fully know how to control. He thinks it has a lot more to do with his feelings for Seokmin, with who Seokmin is as a person, stunning and alluring, than with Jihoon himself.  
  
There are hands on his waist and fingers digging into his skin, the warm puff of their breaths when their lips part making his cheeks flushed and pink. Seokmin tries to remind Jihoon he’s still drenched, but Jihoon won’t hear it, says _It’s okay_ and _Don’t worry about it_ and _Don’t stop_ and Seokmin doesn’t, but he undresses Jihoon, deftly peels off his wet clothes, lets them fall to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t know whether it has more to do with getting him out of his cold, wet clothes or with sharing the same need Jihoon has for wanting to see all of Seokmin, but it makes his breath hitch anyway, makes him gasp when Seokmin presses his warm hands against Jihoon’s cold skin and the contrast sends goosebumps up and down Jihoon’s arms.  
  
There’s the firm press of their bodies and Seokmin’s tongue in his mouth when Jihoon gets his hands on him, gets his sweatshirt off and presses his fingers into the miles of golden skin spread over Seokmin’s back, into the divots of his spine and the hard muscle shifting underneath. There’s Jihoon’s heart pounding in his chest and the sound of Seokmin’s breathy moan when Jihoon’s thigh presses against the erection in his pants that makes Jihoon pull away and look up into Seokmin’s face to finally see the color spread spread over his face, the plump swell of his lips, the heavy dark look in his eyes.  
  
Jihoon stumbles backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he goes toppling down, falling on Seokmin’s messy bed with a huff. Seokmin pauses, stares at Jihoon with round eyes as he covers his shocked mouth with one hand.  
  
“Sorry,” Seokmin breathes quietly, and Jihoon gapes at him.  
  
“What the hell is that face for,” Jihoon scoffs, looking up at Seokmin from where he dropped to. “Get down here.”  
  
“Yes, hyung,” Seokmin responds obediently, climbing atop the bed on his knees, his forearms resting on either side of Jihoon’s head.  
  
“You were so smooth right up until then,” Jihoon says quietly, tipping his head back to look at Seokmin as he bends his legs at the knees, thighs bracketing Seokmin’s legs, the soft material of Seokmin’s sweatpants brushing against the inside of his thighs.  
  
“I am smooth,” Seokmin argues, but there’s no heat behind it. He seems suddenly distracted by Jihoon sprawled under him, his eyes tracing down Jihoon’s face and outlining the shape of his body. Jihoon tries to picture what he must look like. Hair half dry and matted against his head, skin flushed all the way down to his heaving chest, arms resting on the bed, body welcoming Seokmin in, equal amounts helpless and desperate.  
  
It’s heady, having Seokmin this close, to look up and meet Seokmin’s dark eyes and find himself the focus of his gaze. More than that, it feels largely intimate, and Jihoon ignores the way that makes him feel like he can’t breathe in favor of lifting his hand and gracing the pads of his fingers over Seokmin’s jaw, his cheekbones. It feels wild, being allowed to touch Seokmin like this. Jihoon doesn’t know what to do with all this privileged power he’s been given, but he starts by burying his fingers in Seokmin’s hair and staring at the way Seokmin’s lips part at the feeling, red and wet from kissing.  
  
 _God_ , Jihoon thinks as Seokmin lowers himself down until he can kiss Jihoon again. He feels like he’s losing his mind. He feels like with every searing kisses, Seokmin is burning into him, pressing heat and warmth straight into Jihoon’s smooth, cold bones. Seokmin traces the seam of his lips with his tongue and Jihoon melts under him as he parts his lips, melts from the inside out as he sighs into the kiss, gives in to Seokmin’s heat.  
  
Just when Jihoon is starting to think he could spend the rest of his life here and die under Seokmin’s mouth, which means he’s actually starting to go insane, Seokmin pulls apart from him. He presses his lips against Jihoon’s chin, against the bridge of his nose, against his cheek, which makes Jihoon ache so fast and hard it rattles his heart in his chest. His presses his hands to Seokmin’s back again, clings to his warm skin as Seokmin puts his lips to Jihoon’s neck, presses hot, open-mouthed kisses that turn into his flushed skin between Seokmin’s teeth, that turns Jihoon’s thoughts into a garbled mess of Seokmin’s name and _yes, I do believe his mouth is heaven._  
  
Desperation courses through Jihoon’s veins as Seokmin sucks a mark into his skin, as he arches his neck back and surprises himself by moaning, soft and breathy. Seokmin tries to move down but only gets as far as Jihoon’s collarbones before he’s tugging him back up to look at him. They’ve barely done anything and he already feels out of his mind, short of breath and heart pounding in his chest and he can’t seem to let Seokmin get too far from him even when he wants more and more.  
  
His hands are on either side of Seokmin’s head, his fingers in his hair as he tugs him down and presses into Seokmin’s mouth, takes his breath away for a change. They kiss and kiss until it feels like fire settling at the pit of Jihoon’s stomach, until he can’t take the heat still anymore and grinds his hips up into Seokmin’s, presses his naked erection against Seokmin’s clothed one, elicits a shocked, pretty moan from Seokmin.  
  
“Jihoon,” Seokmin gasps, and the sound breaks their lips apart. His head falls, forehead pressed against Jihoon’s neck, and his hips stutter, like he’s trying to keep himself from grinding down. Jihoon wishes he wouldn’t. “I can’t,” Seokmin says, vaguely shaking his head, and Jihoon’s heart rises to the edge of guilt and regret until Seokmin breathes out a shaky sigh, says, “You have to tell me what you want, hyung. What do you want?”  
  
 _God_ , Jihoon thinks again as he finally gives in to everything they both want, wrapping his fingers around Seokmin’s arms to flip them over. What doesn’t he want?  
  
 **  
****  
****  
****  
****  
**Afterwards, after Jihoon has explored and mapped out the length of Seokmin’s body with his hands and mouth, after Seokmin has worked him open with long, deft fingers and pressed into the tight heat of Jihoon’s body, after Seokmin has made him pant and gasp for more with slow, deep thrusts, after they’ve both taken each other apart in equal measures, breathless and wrapped up in each other’s arms, _afterwards._ **  
****  
**Jihoon holds Seokmin close while he rests his head in the crook of Jihoon’s arm, right where his elbow bends, while Jihoon runs his fingers through Seokmin’s hair, absentminded and slow. He’s watching the way Seokmin’s hair falls over his forehead when he lets it go, the flutter of his lashes when Seokmin blinks. There’s still some flushed color left on the high of his cheeks and his lips are a shade pinker from so much kissing, a faint smile playing on them. **  
****  
**Just as Jihoon is thinking Seokmin is undoubtedly the most stunning person he has ever seen, Seokmin seems to realize he’s being watched and lifts his eyes to Jihoon. An aching feeling unfurls in Jihoon’s chest and blooms as piercing warmth. It makes him feel a little short of breath, makes his eyes feel a little stung, not like he’s gonna cry, but almost like he can’t bear to look at Seokmin so directly from so close, the way you can’t stare right at the sun.  
  
“What?” Seokmin breathes when Jihoon doesn’t say anything. He looks so pillow soft and sated and Jihoon loves having him close like this right now, doesn’t want to let him go.  
  
“Nothing,” Jihoon says softly, shaking his head minutely. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”  
  
Seokmin freezes, the color in his cheeks spreading to his ears. He huffs out a breath, then rolls into Jihoon’s side and tucks his face against his shoulder, his warm nose brushing over Jihoon’s collarbone.  
  
“I didn’t expect you to say something so embarrassing,” Seokmin mumbles against the skin of Jihoon’s shoulder. Jihoon doesn’t think it’s embarrassing, he thinks it’s true, but he lets Seokmin have it, for now.  
  
Seokmin’s apartment is quiet. He remembers this is the first time he has been in Seokmin’s room, flicks his eyes around the room, taking it in as he keeps carding his fingers through Seokmin’s hair.  
  
There’s a window on the right side of the bed with powder blue drapes drawn open, but Jihoon can only see the dark night sky from it while he’s laying down. He wonders if the sun spills in through the window and over the bed in the morning, wonders about how the light might fall over Seokmin’s gold skin. There’s a reusable water bottle on the nightstand beside the bed and a notebook with a forest green cover held close by an elastic strap. Seokmin’s clothes poke out of his drawers where they’re not closed properly and there are stacks of paper on top of his dresser that Jihoon suspects are probably scripts. The closet doors aren’t properly closed and Jihoon can see some of Seokmin’s button up shirts messily hung up and the organizer racks lined up with shoes.  
  
It isn’t neat, exactly. There are small signs of disarray that probably build up with time, small wadded up receipts on the nightstand, a pair of slippers in a random corner of the room, a row of skin products lined up against the wall on the dresser that Jihoon wonders if he had seen in the bathroom the last time he was here. He remembers the bed wasn’t made when they first fell into it, though it’s definitely worse now. But it feels so much like being wrapped up and surrounded by Seokmin, Jihoon mostly feels warm and relaxed about being here, about being in Seokmin’s bed and the slow way he caresses his hand up and down Jihoon’s side, the weight of his arm fixed and comforting over Jihoon’s waist.  
  
“Do you want ice cream?” Seokmin asks, sometime after Jihoon has lost count of the faint thudding of Seokmin’s heart where his chest is pressed against Jihoon’s side.  
  
“What?” Jihoon says, mind working too slowly to catch words the first time around.  
  
“Ice cream,” Seokmin repeats, “I just remembered I have some and I kind of want it now.”  
  
“Oh. Yeah, actually,” Jihoon says after he thinks about it, “ice cream sounds good.”  
  
“Okay,” Seokmin nods, but he doesn’t get up for another few minutes, slowly and hesitantly detaching himself from Jihoon with a quiet sigh. “I’ll be right back, don’t move.”  
  
Jihoon nods and watches him get out of bed, already missing the warm pressure of Seokmin’s body against his side, watches him put on his underwear and then leave the room, door left open behind him. Jihoon breathes in deeply and sits up, only enough to lean over the side of the bed and grab Seokmin’s sweatshirt off the floor. His dress shirt is a wet, wrinkly lump on the floor at the foot of the bed.  
  
“This is yours,” Jihoon says when Seokmin comes back holding two spoons and a container of ice cream, tugging at the neck of the shirt so Seokmin understands what he’s referring to. Seokmin’s eyes flicker down to his chest before he smiles easily, huffing out a laugh.  
  
“That’s fine,” he says as he comes back to bed, sitting beside Jihoon but turned to face him, and hands Jihoon one of the spoons he’s carrying. Jihoon takes the ice cream pint as well.  
  
“What is this?” he asks, turning the container in his hand to read the label.  
  
“Phish food,” Seokmin tells him brightly. “It’s got fudge pieces shaped like fish.”  
  
“And marshmallow swirl and caramel,” Jihoon reads off, then glances up at Seokmin’s smiling face. There’s a mark blooming pink where his shoulder meets his neck, and his hair is a little mussed and fluffy, one side flatter than the other from Jihoon running his fingers through it. Seokmin’s eyes are so warm and bright as he looks at him, it makes Jihoon’s heart clench fondly in his chest.  
  
Jihoon has to dig his spoon in after uncapping the ice cream, but he gets a big marshmallow swirl on his first try before he hands it to Seokmin, who stares at him expectantly, waiting for his reaction.  
  
“It’s sweet,” Jihoon tells him flatly. Seokmin’s smile widens into an eye crinkling grin as he ducks his head. “Do you like this kind?” Jihoon asks, watching him shrug and poke at the ice cream, looking for a fish fudge piece.  
  
“It’s the kind I’ve been into lately,” Seokmin tells him, giving up on the fudge for now. “I went to the store looking for mint choco once and they didn’t have it, so I got this instead. I really like it now.” He takes another spoonful before handing Jihoon the ice cream back. “You don’t like sweets a lot, right?”  
  
“Ice cream’s okay,” Jihoon shrugs one shoulder. He pokes something hard on his next dig, scoops out the fish fudge, and exchanges spoons with Seokmin. He very pointedly pretends not to notice the way Seokmin beams at him. “I usually get the plain flavors, though.”  
  
“Like vanilla?” Seokmin asks, munching on fish fudge. Jihoon looks up at him deadpan.  
  
He says, “Exactly vanilla,” and Seokmin laughs at him as takes the container from him. He watches the way Seokmin scrapes the top of the ice cream and how his smile pulls at his cheeks. He keeps smiling, hasn’t stopped smiling since their breaths evened out and he cuddled against Jihoon’s side. The warmth hasn’t melted away from his eyes either and it makes Jihoon feel so weak, makes him feel like he’s right in the palm of Seokmin’s hand, right where he wants to be but not sure it’s where he’s allowed to be.  
  
“So,” Jihoon starts, heart beating heavily, and when Seokmin raises his eyes to him, Jihoon nervously takes the container from him, stares down at the ice cream. “What now?”  
  
Seokmin says, “Oh,” very quietly, and Jihoon feels him shift on the bed next to him as he pokes at the soft parts of the ice cream and thinks about how you don’t have to love someone to sleep with them, don’t even have to _like_ them, and maybe he should think a little more before he head dives into things that have a very promising potential of hurting him. “Well,” Seokmin says gently, “to be honest, I don’t really do one-offs, especially with--”

  
He cuts off suddenly and Jihoon lifts his eyes to look at him. Seokmin is staring at him thoughtfully, eyes a little round. Jihoon stares back, pulse beating in his neck like the wings of a hummingbird.  
  
“Hey,” Seokmin says, “did I tell you I love you already?”  
  
Jihoon’s heart and like all of his organs flat out stop working. His breath jams up in the back of his throat and he can feel how tight it is but he doesn’t let it out. “No,” Jihoon manages weakly, eyes wide.  
  
Seokmin nods, looks down at his thumbs fidgeting with his spoon. “I was saying I don’t do one-offs with people I’m in love with, but I haven’t even told you I’m in love with you. I keep doing this all wrong.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Jihoon says gently, but Seokmin shakes his head, face scrunching up in the middle.  
  
“No, it’s not,” Seokmin says, and takes a fortifying breath. “I mean, you’re right, I was shutting you out, and that wasn’t cool, but you still came all the way here.”  
  
The top of his thumbs look white with how hard he’s pressing them into the stem of the spoon, and his shoulders look tense. Jihoon stays quiet, feels like he should let Seokmin say whatever he needs to say.  
  
“I didn’t mean to kiss you like that, the other night,” Seokmin says, tilts his head a little as he says it. “Like I did want to, and I wasn’t thinking so I just did it, but I panicked. I shouldn’t have left like that. I should have talked to you about it then.”  
  
He’s quiet for long enough that Jihoon assumes he is done for now, so he says, “It’s okay,” again and means it. Seokmin looks at him now, and Jihoon holds his gaze even as he fidgets with the rim of the ice cream container, scraping his index nail over it. “I let you go. And I waited before I tried to call you. That probably didn’t make you feel great, right?” He pauses, and when Seokmin sighs and nods, he nods back. “Right. And I had other opportunities to talk to you that I didn’t take, so. That’s on me, too.”  
  
Seokmin blinks, looks at him curiously. “Like when?”  
  
Jihoon clenches his teeth, looks down at his hands. “Like on Monday, at hyung’s place.” He glances at Seokmin’s face, but he’s still looking at Jihoon a little blankly, so he tells him, “I overheard you and Jeonghan-hyung talking.”  
  
Seokmin pauses for a moment, then groans softly, his face changing. “Oh, that’s so embarrassing,” he breathes. “You heard that?”  
  
“Only a little,” Jihoon says quickly, “and I shouldn’t have. Or I could have at least said something then. I knew you were talking about me, I didn’t totally get it, but I figured, you know?” He breathes out softly, shrugs his shoulders. “I panicked, too.”  
  
The embarrassment fades off Seokmin’s face and instead he nods, understanding. “It’s okay, too,” he says, then pauses, takes another shaky breath. “The truth is,” he says, “I get scared of asking for what I want sometimes. That’s why I do dumb things like running away and stuff.”  
  
It’s weird, because Jihoon hasn’t felt nervous during this conversation the way he thought he might. It’s not exactly pleasant, but he feels comfortable, and safe, in Seokmin’s bedroom, in the quiet, gentle way they’re speaking.  
  
His heart races a little now, though, not with anxiousness, but with a terrifying joy he recognizes now. “Well, what do you want?”  
  
Seokmin looks at him, then ducks his head, presses down on the metal spoon again. Jihoon doesn’t think of himself as a very gentle person, necessarily, but Seokmin makes him feel so soft, makes his insides turn warm and his head go fuzzy and quiet. He takes the ice cream container in one hand, rests the bottom on his knee, and slips his other hand between Seokmin’s fidgeting fingers, holds his hand gently.  
  
“Would it be less scary if I told you what I wanted first?” Jihoon asks when Seokmin looks at him.  
  
Seokmin sighs softly, the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yeah, maybe.”  
  
“Okay,” Jihoon says, “but I don’t want you to feel pressured, okay?” he asks, waits for Seokmin to nod before he goes on. He rubs his thumb over the back of Seokmin’s knuckles, more to soothe himself than Seokmin. He says, “At first, I wasn’t planning on telling you how I felt, because I didn’t think you even liked me back. And because I thought being friends was good enough. I thought being friends was better than nothing, you know?”  
  
He says _you know_ as a form of speech, but Seokmin still smiles gently at him, still nods and says, “I know. I like being your friend, too,” and Jihoon doesn’t know if that’s supposed to make him feel so happy in this situation, but it does.  
  
“Thanks,” Jihoon says softly, smiles back. It’s easier to look at Seokmin as he talks now. “I like being with you,” he tells Seokmin. “I also want to be with you, you know? Like, date you and kiss you and be your boyfriend, but only if you want to. Otherwise, I’m okay with staying friends.”  
  
Seokmin looks at him so warmly, with so much affection in his eyes, it makes Jihoon ache in the sweetest way. It makes his blood turn syrupy sweet and his heart flutter in his chest.  
  
“I want that too,” Seokmin says, squeezing his hand. Then, in a very Seokmin fashion, he grins, laughing softly. Jihoon thinks he’s so good, the nicest person he’s ever met. “I like being your friend, but I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore,” Seokmin says, and he leans forward and nuzzles his nose with Jihoon’s, sweet and tender.  
  
Jihoon, who feels like the breath has been taken out of his lungs in the very best way and who doesn’t have an ounce of patience in him, leans forward, presses his lips to Seokmin’s, tasting caramel and chocolate.  
  
“I love you,” Seokmin says when he briefly pulls away from Jihoon, just enough to say that, then kisses him again, and it makes Jihoon so happy, in a way he can’t really describe.  
  
It’s different, the way Seokmin kisses him now, less force and desperation, more patient, a searing warmth that settles into Jihoon’s blood, makes him feel loose and weightless. It makes him ache either way, makes him want Seokmin as close as possible.  
  
“Seokmin-ah,” Jihoon says between one kiss and the next, lets go of Seokmin’s hand just to run his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “Take the ice cream back to the fridge, will you?”  
  
Seokmin smiles against his mouth, and that’s all kinds of wonderful Jihoon didn’t even know to expect. “Yes, hyung.”  
  


* * *

  
Jihoon wakes to an empty bed and the smell of burnt butter on his nose, the faint sound of something sizzling.  
  
He opens his eyes to a patch of sunlight on the space beside him where Seokmin used to be. Faintly, in his sleep-fogged, barely awake state, Jihoon has a thought of Seokmin leaving behind pools of sunlight wherever he goes, after staying in one place for too long.  
  
Jihoon wakes slow and easy. He wakes up on his side with the blankets tucked in under his chin, and if he thinks hard about it, he might have a vague memory of careful hands lifting the covers around him, a fluttering kiss on his head.  
  
He stays in bed for a moment longer, appreciating the way the light spills into Seokmin’s room through the window, a bright morning after a rainy night, and the quiet sounds of Seokmin somewhere else in the apartment, the soft sound of his singing drifting in through the cracked open door.  
  
Seokmin must have picked up their clothes when he woke up, because they’re not there when Jihoon leans over the bed looking for the sweatshirt he took off the night before. He yawns as he untangles himself from the sheets, stretches his arms over his head while he pads over to Seokmin’s dresser, and only feels a little weird about going through one of Seokmin’s drawers. He takes the first shirt and pants he finds and shoves the drawer closed with his arms, wonders if borrowing clothes is a requirement for coming to Seokmin’s apartment.  
  
The sound of Seokmin’s singing gets louder as Jihoon steps out of the room, follows his voice and the smell of butter into the kitchen. Seokmin is standing over his stove frying eggs, two plates holding slices of toast beside him on the counter. He’s singing an Apink song and his hair is messy, standing up on the back. He doesn’t notice him there, so Jihoon watches him for a moment, smiling fondly at the sound of his singing. There’s a quiet pause before Seokmin hums over a part he doesn’t know the words to, then cuts to the chorus again, vaguely shimmying his shoulders.  
  
It makes Jihoon feel so overwhelmed with affection that before he has even said anything, he moves to stand behind Seokmin, wraps his arms around his torso under Seokmin’s arms and rests his cheek in the space between Seokmin’s shoulder blades.  
  
Seokmin makes a surprised sound, and then laughs softly as he puts a hand over Jihoon’s arms. “You startled me,” he says, and, “good morning, did you sleep well?”  
  
Jihoon hums as a response, squeezes his arms around him. Seokmin is so nice, and so warm, and Jihoon loves him, and Seokmin loves him back, and that’s never going to stop being marvelous to Jihoon, will never stop making his heart flutter with excitement, the flowers Seokmin has planted in his chest swaying in the breeze of Jihoon’s joy. It’s nice, actually.  
  
Jihoon thinks about saying anything resembling the way he feels aloud, but what he ends up saying is, “You know, I think it’s really poor custom to leave someone alone in bed the morning after, especially the first time, _especially_ your new boyfriend.”  
  
Seokmin laughs, familiar with Jihoon’s persuasion tactics, and Jihoon hears the sound rumble from his chest with his ear pressed to his back. “Even if I’m making us breakfast?”  
  
“Even if you’re being super nice and making us breakfast,” Jihoon answers. “Just think,” he says quietly, “we could be having lazy morning sex right now.”  
  
Seokmin laughs a little harder, his shoulders shaking under Jihoon’s head. He doesn’t say anything, but his arms move over Jihoon’s with more purpose, and he steps a little to the side, taking Jihoon with him, before he switches the stove off and turns around in Jihoon’s arms.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Seokmin says, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and smiling at him when Jihoon has to tilt his head back to look Seokmin in the eye. “But I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other mornings.”  
  
“This is your verbal contract then,” Jihoon responds. “You’re promising me morning sex like this. You’re not allowed to get out of bed next time. Who even gets up this early?”  
  
“Do you even know what time it is?” Seokmin says, laughing softly, running a hand through Jihoon’s sleep mussed hair.  
  
A little petulant, Jihoon says, “Doesn’t matter. Contract.”  
  
“I promise,” Seokmin says through a grin, nodding, then leans down to meld his lips against Jihoon’s, kisses him slow and relaxed. Jihoon feels like liquid sunlight. He bets anyone who comes this close to Seokmin can feel like that.  
  
When they part, Seokmin smiles down at him and hums. “Morning breath,” he says.  
  
Jihoon hums back at him. “No toothbrush.”  
  
Seokmin grins, laughs as he sways Jihoon in his hold. “You can use mine.”  
  
“Gross,” Jihoon says, making a face. Seokmin laughs at him.  
  
“I think it makes very little difference at this point, all things considered,” Seokmin says, “but it’s got one of those removable heads. You can use the replacement and keep it here for when you come over.”  
  
“Wow,” Jihoon intones, “you just made me feel self-conscious and special in one breath.”  
  
“Go, I’ll bring this out,” Seokmin says through a laugh, gesturing at the plates behind him, and Jihoon likes so much how much he smiles and laughs in the morning, because Jihoon is always grumpy in the morning, but seeing Seokmin’s bright, laughing eyes makes him feel so much more okay with being awake.  
  
“Fine,” Jihoon says, detaching himself from him. As he walks out of the kitchen backwards, he says, “Just think of all the nice moments you’re ruining, though.”  
  
“It’ll be so much nicer when your teeth are clean,” Seokmin calls after him.  
  
Seokmin does have a removable head toothbrush, that vibrates to boot, and Jihoon finds the replacement head in the cabinet under the sink while he’s thinking Seokmin is probably the first person he’s met who actually owns one of the fancy toothbrushes. Maybe more people than Jihoon realizes own them, but he doesn’t really go around asking about other people’s dental care either.  
  
He uses the bathroom and splashes water over his face while he’s in there, and when Jihoon comes out, Seokmin is sitting in front of the coffee table scrolling through his phone, their breakfast plates sitting over the table, a bowl of fruit between them, two glasses of orange juice. Jihoon was being bratty in the kitchen, but it was only because this is on the side of nicer things people have done for him, and he can’t help having an attitude when he’s embarrassed.  
  
They have breakfast together, talking softly between each other while they eat, which isn’t new, because they’ve been in variations of this position tons before, but it still feels different somehow, quieter and comfortable, intimate in a very subtle, sweet way. Seokmin is very smiley this morning, keeps touching and grabbing Jihoon’s hands whenever he gets the chance, and it’s tender and thrilling in a way that makes Jihoon’s heart stutter, makes him feel all flustered and dopey with affection.  
  
After breakfast, Jihoon helps Seokmin do the dishes, and then they shower together, which makes Jihoon flush hotly at first, until Seokmin whirls around on him in the shower, holding a bottle of shampoo, and sings old trap songs at Jihoon in a very ridiculous deep voice. It makes Jihoon laugh so hard, he has to hold on to Seokmin, almost takes both of them down in an embarrassing shower accident that Seokmin barely catches them from.  
  
And after that, Seokmin makes Jihoon sit between his legs on the floor while Seokmin sits on the couch. He brushes a comb through Jihoon’s hair, because it’s very tangled from getting caught in the rain and then rolling around in the sheets, but Seokmin is gentle and careful about pulling, and Jihoon relaxes against him. After he untangles his hair, Seokmin dries Jihoon’s hair with the blow dryer.  
  
“I don’t usually dry my hair like this,” Jihoon tells Seokmin over the sound of the blow dryer turned on the low setting. “I don’t even own a blow dryer. I like, towel it dry and let air do the rest.”  
  
“I didn’t use to either,” Seokmin says, “I used to go to sleep with it wet and I would wake up with it like a bird’s nest. But my sister saw it once when I was visiting her and it made her so upset, she gave me this blowdryer the very next Christmas.”  
  
Jihoon laughs softly, his shoulders moving against the inside of Seokmin’s knees. “Did she get the baby album, by the way? I never asked.”  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin says brightly. “She really liked it. She said thank you, by the way, for helping me pick it out.”  
  
“Me?” Jihoon says, then leans his head back to look into Seokmin’s smiling face. “Your sister knows about me?”  
  
Seokmin grins at him and laughs like Jihoon is silly before he tips Jihoon’s head forward again so he can run his fingers through the hair on the back of his head while he points the dryer at it.  
  
When Seokmin finishes with Jihoon, he dries his own hair right where they are, and Jihoon stays between his legs until he finishes, head resting over one of Seokmin’s thighs, loose and lazy from the shower, the lingering feeling of Seokmin’s fingers through his hair.  
  
They lounge together on the couch after Seokmin puts the blowdryer away. Their feet are tangled together in the middle while they rest at opposite ends, ankles knocking together. Seokmin is reading a book, the last one he told Jihoon about, while Jihoon scrolls through his phone. In the middle of switching from one app to the other, Jihoon notices the date and says, “Oh shit, it’s Saturday.”  
  
Seokmin flicks his eyes to him, stares at him blankly. Jihoon shoves the flat of his foot against the sole of Seokmin’s foot. “We have lunch with the guys in, like, half an hour,” Jihoon reminds him.  
  
“Ohhh,” Seokmin drags, realization dawning on his face. They both pause, staring at each other. Jihoon doesn’t really feel like leaving the warm, comforting cocoon of Seokmin’s apartment right now, or disrupting their nice day in. It’s cold out. He doesn’t have clothes that belong to him here, other than his wet rain clothes. The t-shirt and shorts he’s wearing belong to Seokmin. “You wanna text hyung and tell them we can’t make it?” Seokmin asks after neither of them make any sort of effort to move.  
  
“I got it,” Jihoon says immediately, opening up the chat they have for the four of them, then pauses over the keyboard. “Um,” he wavers, “is it okay if I text for the both of us?”  
  
He asks because as luck would have it, Jeonghan and Seungkwan happen to be the most perceptive in their group when it comes to these things. Jeonghan basically called it the very first night Jihoon and Seokmin met. As if keeping things quiet in their friend group wasn’t hard enough.  
  
Not that Jihoon minds them knowing or making correct assumptions, but he would also understand if Seokmin doesn’t want to tell anyone yet. It literally just happened.  
  
Seokmin looks at him again, blinks. “I don’t care if you don’t care?” he says, and Jihoon nods and gives him a thumbs-up before he texts Seungkwan and Jeonghan to let them know _Seokmin and I can’t make it, but you guys should still go, have fun_ .  
  
“Do you mind if I play music from my phone?” Seokmin asks as Jihoon is closing out of the messenger app.  
  
“No,” Jihoon hums back, but then he remembers. “Wait, actually, I almost forgot. It’s like, why I came here last night in the first place,” he says, and when Seokmin looks at him curiously, Jihoon grins at him. He says, “We sold my song. I met the artist last night, signed a contract with them.”  
  
Seokmin’s mouth hangs open before Jihoon is even finished, and then he makes a loud, excited sound when Jihoon is done, and then an awed, impressed one as he kicks his feet back and forth against Jihoon’s.  
  
“That’s amazing,” he cheers, “hyung, congratulations!”  
  
Jihoon ducks his head, embarrassed. “Guess all your manifesting worked,” he says, shrugging.  
  
“Screw the manifesting,” Seokmin snaps immediately. “That’s all your hard work. Wow,” he adds, “that’s amazing. You’re, like. Gonna be a signed composer now. Is that the terminology? You know what I’m trying to say,” he says quickly, and it makes Jihoon laugh.  
  
“Yeah, basically,” Jihoon says, nodding and grinning as something in him finally settles into place.  
  
“When does it come out?”  
  
“Next month,” Jihoon answers. “It’ll be the title song for their next album.”  
  
Seokmin gasps at him, loud and high, and Jihoon laughs at the way his eyes widen. “That’s so cool. You’re so cool. Wow,” Seokmin is saying as he puts his open book face down on the coffee table before moving to climb on top of Jihoon, legs straddling his hips. He leans down to rain kisses over Jihoon’s face, kisses his forehead and the space between Jihoon’s eyebrows, various points of his cheeks and the corners of his mouth, his lips and his chin, Jihoon laughing the whole time.  
  
Through giggles and amidst Seokmin’s kisses, he asks, “Is this my reward? Do I get this every time I sell a song?”  
  
“It can be,” Seokmin says after planting another kiss on Jihoon’s mouth. “But also, let me take you out to dinner. Oh,” he adds, excited, “it can be a celebratory dinner, _and_ our first date. What are you doing Friday night?”  
  
The look on Seokmin’s face is so happily excited, Jihoon can’t stop smiling at him, heart full of warmth and affection. “I’m going to dinner with you, apparently,” Jihoon says, as if he would have been able to say no. Even if he’d had plans, he would have cancelled them.  
  
Seokmin grins at him before he leans down to capture Jihoon’s lips in another kiss, one that slows down when Jihoon hums as Seokmin licks into his mouth, his hands settling on Seokmin’s thighs.  
  
Jihoon can’t believe how easily Seokmin reduces him to weak knees and red ears when he kisses him, how pliant he becomes under Seokmin’s mouth. Seokmin could ask anything of him after kissing him and Jihoon would do it, no questions asked.  
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says when he pulls away from Jihoon, brushing his lips over Jihoon’s nose, plants a kiss under Jihoon’s left eye. “Can I listen to your song?”  
  
Jihoon laughs out a sudden, surprised laugh, realizing getting something out of him was exactly what Seokmin was trying to do. He wonders if that’s a happy coincidence or if Seokmin has seen through his weak points so quickly, but he’s not going to ask, just in case.  
  
“Was this just you trying to coerce me, then?” Jihoon asks, giving Seokmin’s thighs a quick squeeze. Seokmin shrugs.  
  
“Only a little,” he says. “Come on, please? Do you have it on you?”  
  
“You literally only have to wait a few more weeks,” Jihoon says.  
  
“It’s not the same, though,” Seokmin whines before he leans down to give Jihoon a chaste kiss. “Please?”  
  
Jihoon stares at his hopeful eyes and his pouty lips, and breathes out a long sigh, only pretending that this is a huge inconvenience to him. “Okay,” he caves, picking his phone up to find the demo he recorded. “But,” he adds, “you can’t look at me while you listen.”  
  
Seokmin immediately drops to wiggle down Jihoon’s body, their hips slotting together as Seokmin rests his head on Jihoon’s shoulder. Jihoon scoffs a laugh at him.  
  
He thinks about Beomju saying this was his most honest, personal work yet and starts to feel really embarrassed, heart pounding in his chest. It’s silly, because he’s already told Seokmin how he feels, but it still makes Jihoon nervous. As he presses play on the track without giving himself room to hesitate, Jihoon decides that it’s one thing to tell a person how you feel, and another to describe to them the way they _make_ you feel. It’s only a little worse for Jihoon, because he wrote a whole song about the way Seokmin makes him feel.  
  
Seokmin hums quietly at the first notes of the song, but he stays quiet for the rest of it, just listening. Jihoon watches his face the whole time, the flutter of his lashes when he blinks, the focused look in his eyes even when he doesn’t seem to be looking at any particular thing. Jihoon’s heart is racing and he wonders if Seokmin can hear or feel it.  
  
It’s different for Jihoon, listening to the song now after everything. After it’s been signed, after he’s told Seokmin how he feels, after learning Seokmin loves him too, after sharing these first quiet, tender moments together. He didn’t realize how hard he was trying to have his feelings heard when he wrote this song, but he realizes it now as he starts to ache with a blinding wave of happiness, relief washing over him, like he’s finally reached something so close to him that had only felt far away. He thinks of how wonderful it is, to know the person you love also loves you in return.  
  
When the song is over, Seokmin turns his head to look at Jihoon, chin resting against Jihoon’s sternum. He’s wearing this soft look on his face that makes Jihoon want to be very small so that Seokmin could hold him in the palm of his hand, keep him warm and close.  
  
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you sing,” Seokmin says softly, eyebrows rising slightly. “I didn’t know you had such a nice voice.”  
  
Jihoon shakes his head as he locks his phone, stretches his arm to put it down on the coffee table. “I’m okay, just good enough that I don’t embarrass myself in front of the people who have to listen to my demos.”  
  
Seokmin clicks his tongue at him and reaches up to nudge his shoulder, disapproving of Jihoon not accepting his compliment. But then, he looks at Jihoon in the same quiet, personal way as before, an indecipherable look in his eyes.  
  
“I loved it so much,” Seokmin says earnestly. “I also feel like I have to listen to it again because I was so excited, but. I can’t believe you made that song by yourself,” he pauses, tilts his head. “I know I’ve told you you’re amazing and cool so many times you probably think I’m just saying it, but you’re really amazing, hyung.”  
  
Jihoon’s whole face heats up at Seokmin’s words and he doesn’t know how to pretend he’s not embarrassed or touched when they’re this close together and he can’t hide his face. He doesn’t know if it’s silly, but it actually means so much to him that Seokmin likes his music, didn’t realize it was important to him until now.  
  
He doesn’t know how to say thank you to Seokmin, so instead he says, “I can send you the demo later, if you want,” in a quiet, shy mumble.  
  
Seokmin’s face breaks out in a bright grin, blinding to Jihoon’s eyes. “Please and thank you,” he says. “And thank you for letting me listen to it.”  
  
Jihoon scoffs. “You say that like you didn’t seduce me into it.”  
  
“You wouldn’t have played it for me if you didn’t want to,” Seokmin snaps back. Jihoon makes a face at him but keeps his mouth shut, and that makes Seokmin laugh.  
  
They’re quiet for a moment, and then Seokmin comes up to kiss him, short and sweet, before he makes a nook out of the place where Jihoon’s neck meets his shoulder and rests his head there, his nose lined up against the length of Jihoon’s neck.  
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says again, after he’s settled in and Jihoon has wrapped his arms around Seokmin, hands folded over the small of his back. Jihoon hums in response and after a moment, Seokmin says, “Tell me if this is super selfish, but is the song about me?”  
  
Jihoon unfolds his hands so he can caress Seokmin’s side with his palm. “‘S not selfish,” he says, “I did write it about you.”  
  
“Oh,” Seokmin says quietly. “No one’s ever written a song about me before. Thank you.” He says it very gently, very delicately, and he doesn’t lift his head to look at Jihoon, but his arms around Jihoon tighten as he presses his face further into Jihoon’s neck.  
  
Jihoon hums quietly, mostly because he doesn’t know how to respond to that. It was something Jihoon hadn’t considered, or it hadn’t occurred to him, that his song would mean as much to Seokmin as it does to him. He’s glad about it, and he’s glad they listened to it together like this, alone, when it can feel like something that belongs to just the two of them.  
  
“You’re always acting so cool,” Seokmin says, quiet and a little fuzzy. “But you’re really gentle.”  
  
A soft laugh bubbles out of Jihoon as he rubs circles over Seokmin’s back. “Am I?” No one’s ever called him gentle.  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin hums. “Nice. Good. I like you a lot.”  
  
Jihoon laughs again despite the way his heart bumps in his chest, happy and flustered. “I like you too, Seokmin-ah.”  
  
Seokmin is quiet for a while, and then Jihoon realizes he’s fallen asleep, his breathing slow and even, his arms loose and relaxed around Jihoon. He says Seokmin’s name very softly, just to make sure, and smiles to himself when Seokmin doesn’t respond. Jihoon can imagine what they look like, because laying like this, with Jihoon’s shorter frame spread under Seokmin, their legs don’t even match up, Seokmin’s right foot hanging off the couch, his left leg curled between Jihoon’s knees.  
  
Jihoon feels a lot like an overgrown puppy has fallen asleep on top of him, and he doesn’t know how Seokmin is comfortable like this, but he still ends up falling asleep too, the apartment bright and quiet around them, his heart beating slow and content under Seokmin’s chest.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Do you really have to go?” Seokmin is asking later, when Jihoon has finally decided it’s time for him to go home. Seokmin is standing over him while he puts his shoes on, and when Jihoon straightens up, he puts a hand on the wall, leans forward so Jihoon feels caged in. It makes Jihoon laugh at him, because he knows Seokmin is trying to be overly charming, despite the sulky pout on his face.  
  
“Yes,” Jihoon tells him through his laughter, “I have to get some work done, and I’m not gonna focus with you around.”  
  
“I’m distracting?” Seokmin asks like he actually doesn’t know, and Jihoon grins up at him, raises himself on the balls of his feet so he can kiss Seokmin.  
  
“You drive me crazy, Seokmin-ah,” Jihoon says when they part, their noses still touching.  
  
Seokmin blushes bright pink, and he stammers a little as he lowers his arm from the wall. “Okay,” he says gently, “you can go home, then.”  
  
Jihoon laughs again and shakes his head as he takes Seokmin by the arm, tugs him down so he can give him a peck on the cheek.  
  
“You’ll call me later?” Seokmin asks as he opens the door for Jihoon.  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon hums, turns around so Seokmin can give him another chaste kiss on the lips. “Bye bye.”  
  
Jihoon goes home, and despite Seokmin being mostly all he can think about, he does get done most of the work he needed to. He listens over some files Beomju asked him to polish up before he sends them his way, works on the melody for another song he’s started, works on some lyrics for one song and starts new ones for a different song. He doesn’t touch his clarinet at all, but he organizes his work desk and spends an hour talking to his mom on the phone, listens to her talk about her flowers and the birdhouse his dad is building.  
  
When he’s ready for bed later that night, he calls Seokmin on FaceTime and props him up on his nightstand so Jihoon can talk to him while he’s laying down in bed. Seokmin tells him he missed him, and Jihoon laughs at him, because they were together all last night and most of today, but it still makes him warm and fond. Jihoon tells him about his mom’s stories and Seokmin tells him about how he spent the rest of his day and then after a while, Jihoon falls asleep first, Seokmin still on the line. When he wakes up in the morning, he reads all the good night messages Seokmin sent him the night before and spends the rest of the day feeling ridiculously happy.  
  


* * *

  
On Friday night, for their first date, Seokmin takes Jihoon to a dakgalbi place in Hongdae, and it’s easy and fun and doesn’t feel that much different from all the times they’ve gone out together by themselves. Jihoon thought it would feel different, because dates make him a little nervous sometimes, but he feels as comfortable as he always does talking and laughing with Seokmin.  
  
It’s not different, but it still feels nicer now, in the subtle moments of intimacy that pass between the two of them, like when Jihoon doesn’t have to hide the fondness in his eyes and in his smile when Seokmin does something odd just to make Jihoon laugh, or when Seokmin holds Jihoon’s hand under the table and doesn’t get startled into letting go like he used to. Jihoon even lets Seokmin feed him tteokbokki at one point, and he only feels a little embarrassed about that.  
  
Jihoon’s favorite part though is afterwards, when they spend some time walking around Hongdae. It isn’t anything new to Jihoon, but it’s nicer when he’s with Seokmin, the way most things are nicer when he shares them with Seokmin.  
  
They get one tall soft serve ice cream to share together, and Seokmin asks Jihoon to take a picture of him holding it, then insists on taking one of Jihoon too, so Jihoon lets him.  
  
“Is it okay if I send these to my sister?” Seokmin asks, looking down at his phone. Jihoon hums in response, too busy staring down the tower of soft serve ice cream, trying to figure out how to start it. The street vendor gave them spoons, but Jihoon is determined. He has to hold it under his chin and lean over it to bite the top off, and he doesn’t notice Seokmin staring at him until he hears him snickering beside Jihoon.  
  
“Here,” Jihoon says through the mouthful of vanilla soft serve, holding the cone out to Seokmin. “I started it for you.”  
  
“Wow,” Seokmin laughs, “thanks so much. I wish that’s what I had gotten on camera.”  
  
“Better luck next time,” Jihoon taunts him with the best smug look he can manage while he’s chewing cold ice cream. “Who said this was a good idea?” Jihoon demands after he’s done. “It’s February.”  
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin starts to say, another smile pulling at his lips, because it was Jihoon who suggested getting ice cream.  
  
“Shut up,” Jihoon says quickly, doesn’t want to hear it, and Seokmin laughs at him loudly.  
  
They also stop to look at some street performers at Seokmin’s request, kids dancing to popular kpop routines.  
  
“I know the choreo to Super Junior’s Sorry Sorry,” Seokmin says to him while they’re watching the dancing, surrounded by other spectators.  
  
“So does everyone else,” Jihoon says, laughing at him. Seokmin scoffs, then pauses.  
  
“I also know all of Park Jiyoon’s Coming of Age Ceremony,” Seokmin admits, and Jihoon does turn to look at him with wide eyes and an open mouth at that.  
  
“I have to see that,” Jihoon declares and when Seokmin only laughs at him, he insists, “you can’t just tell me that and not expect me to want to see.”  
  
Seokmin says, “I’ll trade you. You let me see Soonyoung’s dance videos of you, I’ll show you Coming of Age Ceremony.”  
  
Jihoon considers that. He doesn’t actually remember what Soonyoung has recorded of him. “I’ll get back to you on that,” Jihoon says, and Seokmin laughs again.  
  
After the first group, a girl with a saxophone stands in the middle of the crowd, and they stay a little longer to watch her play some songs before they head to the subway station to go home.  
  
They have to stand in the subway, but Seokmin lets Jihoon take the spot closest to the wall and stands between him and the other people on the train. When Seokmin catches Jihoon looking at him, he grins and quirks his head, the look in his eyes blankly curious. “What?” he asks quietly between the two of them, but Jihoon shakes his head. It’s silly, because Jihoon rides the subway by himself all the time, and he doesn’t want to bring it up, but those few times where he was supposed to be taking the train with Seokmin and he wasn’t there sucked and it’s sick, how much Jihoon likes having Seokmin by his side, how much more comfortable he feels just standing next to him.  
  
Seokmin doesn’t press, but he hufs a laugh at Jihoon and bumps their shoulders together.  
  
When they get to Naksan Park, Seokmin turns around so he can face Jihoon. “Did you have fun?” Seokmin asks with a grin, his hands in the pockets of his coat.  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon says, smiling up at Seokmin, because he did. He spent all week looking forward to this and as far as first dates go, he thinks this was perfect. “Thanks for taking me out.”  
  
“Sure,” Seokmin says softly, eyes fluttering gently. “It was fun for me too.”  
  
The lights from Naksan Park cast dim, orange shadows over Seokmin’s face, and the cold makes the tip of his nose look pink, but his eyes are bright and warm. Jihoon knows they have lunch with Jeonghan and Seungkwan tomorrow, so he would be seeing Seokmin tomorrow anyway, but he doesn’t feel like saying goodbye to him yet. He bounces a little on the heels of his feet, feeling a little embarrassed for some reason, and he says, “You wanna come over tonight?”  
  
Seokmin’s grin spreads. “Inviting me over after the first date, hyung? I’m not that kind of guy.”  
  
“Okay, then go home,” Jihoon says easily, and Seokmin laughs as he takes his hands out to grab Jihoon by the shoulders and shake him around a little.  
  
Seokmin whines, “Nooo,” all pouty, and then sighs long and deep. “Okay,” he says, “you’ve coerced me. I’ll put my morals aside for you.”  
  
“You are so lucky no one’s around to hear you say that kind of shit,” Jihoon tells him with a shake of his head, smiling despite himself.  
  
Grinning, Seokmin says, “It’s okay, you like me too much to do anything about it.”  
  
He’s right, but Jihoon isn’t about to tell him that. “Do you wanna stop by your place first to get anything?” Jihoon asks instead of acknowledging Seokmin’s words. “Since we’re only like twenty minutes away from each other.”  
  
Seokmin hums. “I have clothes at your place, don’t I?” he asks, and Jihoon nods. He has Seokmin’s clothes from last week when Jihoon stayed over, and from the time he lent Jihoon clothes after it rained on them that Jihoon never gave him back. “I don’t have a toothbrush.”  
  
Jihoon nibbles on the inside of his cheek and gestures with his head for Seokmin to follow him as he starts walking to his apartment. “It’s okay, I got a spare one for you to keep at my place after last week.”  
  
Seokmin gasps at him, all fake and high. “Already?” he says. “Wow, I must be really special.”  
  
“More special than I am to you,” Jihoon snaps. “All I get is a toothbrush head. I got you a whole toothbrush, stem and everything.”  
  
Seokmin makes an affronted sound, for real this time. “A toothbrush head that attaches to a very nice toothbrush!”  
  
“It is a nice toothbrush,” Jihoon admits, “I wasn’t sure you’d want to use the regular Oral-B I got.”  
  
Seokmin grins at him. “My teeth can stand a few pauper brushes for you, hyung.”  
  
Jihoon knocks their shoulders together hard, but he laughs anyway.  
  


* * *

  
The servers at the restaurant have to push some tables together so the thirteen of them can sit together, which always happens, and it’s why they’ve mostly stopped trying to go out to eat together. But Hansol and Seokmin kept saying all they wanted to do for their birthday was a night out with everyone, so here they are, grouped together at the back of the restaurant with, like, six tables pushed together, chairs arranged on either side.  
  
Jihoon is sitting next to Jeonghan, Soonyoung across from him, and the chair on his other side at one end of the table is still empty.  
  
“Where’s Seokmin?” Seungcheol asks for the tenth time, with the same angry pout he’s been wearing since the third time he asked. Jihoon rolls his eyes, because around the fifth time Seungcheol asked, he was the one who messaged Seokmin to find out his audition had run over a little, but he was on his way.  
  
“You’re so whiny,” Mingyu grumbles at Seungcheol where he’s sitting across from him. “Why are you so impatient? It’s fine.”  
  
“It’s not me,” Seungcheol grumbles at him. “I just don’t think it’s fair Hansol has to wait when it’s his birthday too.”  
  
Hansol, who is sitting at the other end of the table with Seungkwan and Junhui at either side of him, probably knows Seungcheol is just making it up because he’s hungry and only eight years old. But he still grins wide and placidly, eyes bright and happy as he says, “I’m fine, I’m having fun just hanging out with everyone.”  
  
Seungcheol side eyes Hansol. “Stop making me look bad,” Seungcheol says at him, turning his body towards Joshua so his back is to Hansol, which is all kinds of childish, but it makes Hansol laugh.  
  
“It must be nice to not have any shame,” Seungkwan says, leaning forwards so he can look at Seungcheol over Chan’s head. “Don’t you get embarrassed, being the oldest and acting like this?”  
  
Beside him, Chan mumbles, “Even I’m better behaved than you,” but Seungcheol hears it and turns around to face them.  
  
“I love it when you all gang up one me,” Seungcheol says drily, “like I don’t have to deal with that at home.”  
  
“What does that have anything to do with us?” Minghao snaps at him from his seat between Wonwoo and Mingyu, “you’re the one dating them.”  
  
Unhelpful to Seungcheol, Joshua and Jeonghan snicker between each other, nudging one another with their elbows.  
  
Just then, Jihoon happens to look over his shoulder and sees Seokmin fast walking towards their table. He stands beside Hansol when he reaches them and immediately bends at the waist, bowing to all of them.  
  
“I’m late, I know, I’m sorry,” Seokmin apologizes, straightening back up as he does.  
  
“You should be sorry,” Seungcheol snaps at him. “I’m getting berated on your behalf.”  
  
Seokmin stares at him blankly, clearly not understanding, but Junhui waves a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t worry about him,” he says, “happy birthday, Seokminie.”  
  
After Junhui says it, a chorus of _happy birthday_ s go around the table like they did when Hansol arrived, and a bright grin breaks out across Seokmin’s face. He looks kind of stunning, actually, winded from rushing here, hair wind-blown and cheeks red, but his grin is bright and happy. Jihoon can’t help but smile watching him.  
  
Seokmin bows again to thank them, then turns to give Hansol a hug around the shoulders and wish him a happy birthday.  
  
“Thanks hyung,” Hansol says, head tipped back to grin at him. “You too.”  
  
Seokmin takes a quick glance at the table before he finds the empty seat next to Jihoon and comes around to sit between him and Soonyoung.  
  
It happens very quickly, the way Soekmin folds his coat over the back of the chair, leans down to press a chaste quick to Jihoon’s lips before he sits down. Jihoon presses his lips together, watching Seokmin take his seat and seemingly not realize what he just did.  
  
“Oh wow,” Hansol says vacantly from the other end of the tables.  
  
“Excuse me,” Soonyoung gasps.  
  
Beside Soonyoung, Wonwoo mutters quietly, “Oh no.”  
  
Seokmin looks up from where he’s trying to push his chair in without getting up, expression innocently clueless as he looks between them. “What?” he asks, and when no one responds, he turns to look at Jihoon.  
  
Jihoon thins out his mouth and shakes his head minutely as he puts a quick hand on Seokmin’s arm, waiting for Soonyoung’s shit to hit the fan.  
  
“Dude,” Soonyoung gasps at Jihoon “he just kissed you. Like, on the mouth area of your face.”  
  
Jihoon narrows his eyes at him, because no one talks like that. Beside him, very softly, Seokmin says, “Ohhh.”  
  
“When the fuck,” Soonyoung starts to say, loudly aghast, “where you gonna tell me this got resolved!”  
  
Jeonghan says, “Did Soonyoungie not know?” as he turns to look at Joshua and Seungcheol. Jihoon grimaces.  
  
“These three know?” Soonyoung gasps at Jihoon.  
  
Quickly, like he’s trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, Seungcheol says, “I only know because Hannie knew.”  
  
“Yeah, Seungkwan knew too,” Jeonghan says, his face like he doesn’t understand why they’re talking about this, which Jihoon understands, because he wouldn’t either, except he’s known Soonyoung too long.  
  
“‘Cause of that day they missed Saturday lunch together,” Seungkwan says, nodding.  
  
“Ohhh,” Hansol says, turning to look at Seungkwan, nodding. “I get it. Oh, now that I’ve seen it, it doesn’t surprise me.”  
  
Minghao, whose expression looks like all he’s missing is a bag of popcorn, says, “That’s because it’s not surprising at all. You didn’t see it coming, Soonyoung-hyung?”  
  
“That’s not the point,” Soonyoung snaps. He turns to Jihoon and, much more sulky, says, “I was trying to be good and not press you about it, you should have told me.”  
  
Before Jihoon can say anything, Wonwoo says, “I thought you knew everything, Soonyoung-ah.”  
  
Soonyoung snaps again. “Fuck that,” he says, and then to the whole table, “As of today, I have never had a single fucking thought in my life ever, so if anyone is hiding anything from me, you better tell me right now.”  
  
“Just from today?” Jihoon mutters quietly, and Soonyoung only misses it because across the tables, next to Seungkwan and across from Junhui, a burst of snickers bubbles out of Chan, like he can’t help himself.  
  
Soonyoung gasps at him. “What the hell are you keeping from me, Lee Chan?”  
  
Chan waves his hands in front of his face and tries to defend himself, but Soonyoung is shaking his head, standing up from his seat and walking over to Chan’s end.  
  
“Seungcheol, switch seats with me,” Soonyoung demands, and Seungcheol leans away from him and starts to refuse, just to make things extra difficult.  
  
Because it’s happening right next to him, Hansol watches the argument unfold with a grin, laughing at Seungkwan’s distasteful commentary from the sideline. The rest of them break off into noisy chatter, done with this part of the conversation, except for Junhui, who is very nice and trying to diffuse the situation, even if he can’t stop giggling as he does it.  
  
“I should have put money on that,” Jihoon says to Seokmin, disappointed in himself for losing an opportunity to have one over Soonyoung.  
  
Seokmin looks at him with round eyes and a frown that shows all of his teeth. He says, “Did I start that?”  
  
“Well,” Jihoon says, laughing, “yeah, actually.”  
  
Seokmin holds the face for a little longer before the corners of his mouth tug up in a grin and he starts laughing too, leaning forwards into Jihoon’s space.  
  
It’s only been two weeks since they’ve started dating, which is just about the right amount of time for everyone in their loudmouth group to officially find out, but other than that, not a lot has changed, really. Maybe just the way Jihoon knows exactly what it means when Seokmin looks at him with affection in his eyes, smiles just for him. And how every time Seokmin touches him or kisses him, it sends a happy thrill of excitement through Jihoon, makes him flustered and giddy.  
  
He expects those things to fade a little as time goes by, to quiet and settle into a different sort of intimacy that comes with familiarity and comfort. Jihoon is looking forward to that.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why am I blooming when I'm looking at you? I can change the world to be with you." (-SE SO NEON)
> 
> "You're the dreams I've always wished, a chance to be better. Flowers in my path, my love." (-Yerin Baek)

A brisk wind meets Jihoon when he walks out of the subway station, gently blows his hair away from his face and rustles the collar of his jacket. The days have been getting warmer, but it’s still pretty cool at night. Jihoon doesn’t mind. He’s not looking forward to walking home in the still, long summer nights coming around the corner.  
  
The sun had just been starting to set when Jihoon first got on the subway after leaving the studio this afternoon, but it looks like it finished setting all the way during his ride because the sky has gone an opaque blue gray as Jihoon walks home, holding his phone against his ear as his mother chatters his ear away.  
  
“You never told me how the moving in went,” his mom is saying as Jihoon comes to the stop light at a crossroad. “Are you guys all settled in? Do you like the new place?”  
  
“Yeah, mom, we’re settled,” Jihoon tells her, briefly glancing both ways before he crosses the street, after the red light has changed to the little walking figure. “Of course we like it, we wouldn’t have moved here if we didn’t like it.”  
  
“Sometimes an apartment looks one way before you move in, you know,” his mother tells him. “Did the boys help you move in? Jeonghanie told me they were helping you move in.”  
  
“They did,” Jihoon says, “you have no idea how easy it is to move into a two bedroom when you have twelve extra people to help.”  
  
His mom laughs softly over the phone, and the sound makes Jihoon smile. He says a lot of shit, but he really loves his mom, and he likes when he can make her laugh. “You have to send me your new address,” she says after she’s done laughing. “I have a box I wanna send you guys.”  
  
Jihoon hums. “I will. How are you?” he remembers to ask. “Where’s dad?”  
  
“Talking to your uncle in the other room,” his mom tells him with a sigh. “Your dad’s gotten him into birdhouse building too. They’ve been talking about lightweight woods and bird food for the last forty minutes.”  
  
Jihoon pauses, then laughs quietly. He thinks it’s funny that his mom sounds so tired with his dad when she’s the same way with everything she builds an interest on. “And you?”  
  
“Oh, you know,” she says. “Same as usual. Did I tell you I started growing a tomato plant?”  
  
She did, but Jihoon pretends she didn’t, just to humor her, because he forgot to call her when he said he would, so he’s trying to make it up to her without saying he is.  
  
“Well, I did,” his mom tells him, “and let me tell you, it is not going well. Tomato plants are hard, they’re not like my little ferns and money trees and herbs. I was wondering, do you think Seungkwanie knows anything about growing tomato plants?”  
  
Jihoon makes a face, even if she can’t see it. “I don’t know, mom, but I think Seungkwan mostly has houseplants and stuff, you know?”  
  
His mom makes a sad little disappointed sound over the phone. “That’s a shame. I don’t know anyone else who gardens.”  
  
“You barely know Seungkwan,” Jihoon comments, and his mom scoffs at him, but he goes on before she can say anything. “Maybe you should join a club. Or read a book about growing tomato plants. You want me to find you a book?”  
  
“Oh, a club sounds fun,” she says as Jihoon walks into their apartment building, stopping to greet the nice doorman uncle. “I could make your father go with me.”  
  
“You probably wouldn’t even have to make him,” Jihoon hums, walking towards the elevators. His mom laughs again, and Jihoon imagines her nodding, hiding her grinning mouth behind her hand. Jihoon waits until she’s done, then says, “Mom, I’m about to go into the elevator.”  
  
“Oh, okay, I’ll let you go then,” she says, and Jihoon can hear her shuffling on the other line, like she’s getting up or something. “Tell Seokminie we said hi, okay?”  
  
Jihoon says, “I will.”  
  
“Yeah, but actually do it,” his mom repeats, tone stern, like she’s ever been able to pull that off. “Don’t forget or pretend to forget.”  
  
“I won’t,” Jihoon whines, petulantly pushing the button for the elevator. When his mom makes an unconvinced sound, he rolls his eyes. “He always texts or calls you whenever I give him your messages, I don’t understand why you don’t just say hi to him yourself.”  
  
“Because I like making you do it,” his mom says. “And I like getting messages from him. Makes me feel like I have a good son.”  
  
“Oh, wow,” Jihoon says drily. “Thanks.”  
  
“I love you,” his mom says, laughing a little.  
  
“You too, mom. Bye.”  
  
He hangs up the phone and rides the elevator to the eighth floor, walks to the second door on the left side of the hall. Almost as soon as he opens the door, the sound of little feet scampering over their hardwood floors reaches Jihoon’s ears and brings Nabi standing on her little hind legs to climb up Jihoon’s legs.  
  
“Hey, you little monster,” Jihoon says as he drops his keys and wallet on the little table they keep by the door, next to the framed picture of Seokmin holding his baby nephew, Jihoon standing on the baby’s other side. He takes off his shoes before he kneels down on the floor to greet Nabi, scratching behind her ears and rubbing a hand down her back, watching her little tail wag happily.  
  
Nabi is their dog, and she’s super excited and energetic, which used to make Jihoon nervous when they first adopted her, before he realized she was actually too little to do much damage, hence the _little monster._ They’re not even sure what kind of breed she is, some kind of terrier, but she has straight golden yellow hair and pointy ears that made Seokmin think of butterfly wings when they first saw her and immediately made him want to name her Nabi. Jihoon didn’t totally see it, but it made him laugh, so they went with it.  
  
From somewhere in the apartment, Seokmin’s voice calls, “Jihoon?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon calls back.  
  
“In here,” Seokmin says, and Jihoon follows his voice into the living room, Nabi following close behind him, the tags on her collar jingle jangling together happily.  
  
Seokmin is sitting on their couch, his elbows on his knees as he turns his head to watch Jihoon walk in, and when Jihoon comes up next to him and leans down, Seokmin tilts his head back so Jihoon can give him a chaste kiss.  
  
Jihoon says, “Hey,” all soft and gentle, something he reserves for Seokmin, and when Seokmin grins up at him with warm eyes, Jihoon smiles back. “What are you doing?” Jihoon asks, nodding at the script in Seokmin’s hands.  
  
“Memorizing lines,” Seokmin says, furrowing his eyebrows at him like he thinks it should be obvious, so Jihoon shoves his shoulder and makes him move aside so he can sit next to him on the couch.  
  
“How was your day? Did rehearsals go okay?” Jihoon asks as he watches Seokmin set his script face down on their coffee table before sitting back, turning his body to Jihoon, and proceeding to tell him about his day.  
  
It’s a habit they’ve built over the few weeks since they moved in together. Jihoon comes home to Seokmin, who usually gets there before him unless he’s out with one of the guys or play practice runs late. He greets Nabi at the door, and then he greets Seokmin with a kiss, or with a back hug, depending on what Seokmin is doing, and then they sit on their couch or stand around their kitchen and tell each other about their day. It’s one of Jihoon’s favorite parts of his days.  
  
“I think it’s because I’m getting to work with people I’ve met before,” Seokmin is telling him, “but practice for this play is, like, more fun than I remember them being for others.”  
  
“That’s good, though,” Jihoon says, resting his cheek on his hand, his elbow on the couch, as he watches and listens to Seokmin talk. Nabi gets tired of watching them from the floor, apparently, and takes that moment to hop on top of Jihoon’s lap before climbing over to Seokmin’s, where she settles peacefully on top of his thighs as Seokmin scratches the top of her head, looking blissed out. Jihoon doesn’t blame her.  
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin agrees with a grin. “Oh, also,” he adds, smile fading for a moment, “for dinner, I went ahead and ordered in, that okay?”  
  
“Sure,” Jihoon says quickly, nodding. “What’d you order?”  
  
“Bibimbap from that place down the street,” Seokmin says, “and I think I also got japchae, but the guy on the phone was a little confusing, so whether that shows up or not will be a surprise.”  
  
Jihoon quirks his head and blinks, and when Seokmin grins at him, laughter bubbles out of him.  
  
Seokmin laughs with him, then he asks, “Did you have a nice day, hyung?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon tells him. “Pretty normal. I was in the recording studio for hours, though. I don’t even know how many songs we recorded today.”  
  
Seokmin makes a sympathetic sound, moves the hand he isn’t using the pet Nabi to pat Jihoon’s knee. “You think you’re close to being done?”  
  
“Maybe soon, like. In a few days. We still have like a song or two to record, and I know we meant to come back and redo one of the tracks that was already finished.” Jihoon sighs, then shakes his head from side to side, waving his hand next to his ears like he’s going nuts, which he only half means, because he’s tired, but he does really enjoy his job. He’s just a lot busier now, which is good, because it means he’s doing well, so well that he could afford to give up his seat on the orchestra a few months ago and put more into time in at the studio.  
  
Seokmin laughs softly, and then the sound of their doorbell rings through the apartment. Nabi perks her head up, raises her nose in the air, and Seokmin claps.  
  
“Bibimbap,” Seokmin calls.  
  
“And maybe Japchae,” Jihoon adds, getting up for the door.  
  
Whatever the guy from the bibimbap place heard Seokmin say, he managed to get Japchae out of it somewhere, and after the delivery man leaves, they set up in front of the TV to watch a movie over dinner.  
  
This is part of their routine now, too. They’ve built a lot of little routines and rituals and habits over time.  
  
It’s been a year and some since he and Seokmin became boyfriends. It’s been a little over a month since they moved in together, but it’s a wonder they waited that long. They used to make a lot of jokes about how dumb it was that they weren’t living together, because they lived so close to each other, and they were always at each other’s places anyway. But they didn’t actually do anything about it until one afternoon when Jihoon was leaving Seokmin’s apartment early because he’d left a hard drive with some files he needed to work on at his apartment, and Seokmin said _Do you wanna move in together?_ and even then, they still had to wait a few months before they could get out of their leases.  
  
But the months they had to wait gave them time to find this place, which is nice because it’s closer to most of their friends, it has an extra room for all of Jihoon’s music equipment, and pets are allowed. Nabi wasn’t a part of their plan until they found that out, but Seokmin got so excited that Jihoon thought it was worth talking about. They decided since there would be two of them at home instead of one, and Jihoon was only working one job now, and Seokmin was only doing enough hours at the shelter to keep him busy when theatre seasons were slow, that they could handle a dog. They still waited a week after they moved in to adopt Nabi, though, just so they were settled in before they added a dog to the mix.  
  
Jihoon loves living with Seokmin, and he loves their place, all the signs of their life together. Nabi’s food and water bowls in the kitchen. Framed pictures of them scattered around their apartment, of the two of them with Jihoon’s parents last Chuseok, of them with all their friends last Christmas at Seungcheol’s place, of the trip Jihoon took with Seokmin and his family. There are small potted plants on the windowsill of their kitchen and bathroom that Seungkwan and Hansol brought them when they helped them move in and that Seungkwan was helping them take care of. A painting in their bedroom that Minghao and Mingyu made for them as a housewarming present. Next to Seokmin’s bookcase in the music room is a new command hook with new dried flowers from a new bouquet Jihoon gave Seokmin to commemorate them getting a place together, after Seokmin mentioned being sad that the old ones wouldn’t make the move.  
  
It’s not a lot, but it’s home. It’s perfect.  
  
After dinner and after their movie, Seokmin hooks Nabi’s leash to her collar while she pitter patters her little legs excitedly, and the two of them take her out for a walk, like they try to do most nights, unless only one of them can take her out.  
  
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Seokmin says as they walk out of their building, Nabi following close by on one side of Seokmin while Jihoon stands at the other. “This really funny thing happened this afternoon.”  
  
The night breeze is crisp and cool and it blows Seokmin’s hair away from his face. His eyes are bright under the light from the lamp posts, and his grin is bright and happy. Jihoon doesn’t get tired of looking at him.  
  
“She didn’t come greet me when I came home, which is weird, cause she’s always there, you know?” Seokmin is saying, and Jihoon nods. “So I’m walking around the apartment looking for her and finally, I come into our bedroom and at first I think she’s not there,” he makes this serious, thoughtful face that makes Jihoon grin, “but then I see this little lump under our sheets and somehow she got under the duvet and she was all curled up and deep asleep, didn’t even hear me come in.”  
  
Jihoon scrunches his nose and squeezes his eyes shut as they come to a stop while Nabi pees. “That’s so cute,” he says, tipping his head back.  
  
“Isn’t it?” Seokmin says, loud and excited. “I love her.”  
  
“She’s so full of chaos,” Jihoon says as Nabi tugs the leash and drags them a little further down the sidewalk.  
  
“She gets it from you,” Seokmin says. Jihoon tsks his tongue at him and shoves his shoulder, but Seokmin grabs his hand and holds it in his free hand. There’s barely anyone around their street at this time at night, so Jihoon lets him and twines their fingers together.  
  
When they come back from their walk, Jihoon showers and gets ready for bed while Seokmin goes over his lines a little more. When he’s done, he climbs under the covers in their bed, scrolling through his phone while he waits for Seokmin to get ready for bed.  
  
Jihoon is reading a thread on twitter when Seokmin pads into their room and climbs into bed. He lifts Jihoon’s phone arm up and slips in under it, presses himself back until his back is against Jihoon’s chest.  
  
“I guess I’m done with that then,” Jihoon says at the back of Seokmin’s head, which is covering the screen of his phone. Seokmin tugs his phone out of his hand and plugs it in by their nightstand, where they have an old framed picture of Seokmin kissing Jihoon’s cheek the night they all celebrated Jihoon’s first song being released, Jihoon’s eyes tightly squeezed shut as he grinned.  
  
Seokmin settles in against him again and Jihoon sighs, fond and so in love, as he secures his arm around Seokmin’s tummy, holds him close.  
  
After a few moments where they’re both comfortably quiet, Jihoon remembers something. “Mom and dad say hi, by the way.”  
  
“Did you talk to them today?” Seokmin asks, turning his head a little, not enough to see Jihoon, but enough that the gesture is there.  
  
“Just mom,” Jihoon tells him, “on my way here. She said hi from both of them.”  
  
“Oh,” Seokmin says, soft and sweet. “Remind me to call her tomorrow.”  
  
“I will,” Jihoon says, and means it.  
  
This is his absolute favorite part of the day, falling asleep next to Seokmin, tied only by waking up next to Seokmin. In the morning, he gets to watch the light stream in through the small spaces in their blinds and paint Seokmin in slivers of white gold. Gets to kiss Seokmin good morning, because the morning breath has mattered less and less, and if they wake up early enough, he gets to stay in bed with Seokmin longer, gets to kiss him slow and loose, or hold him against himself until they absolutely do have to get out of bed.  
  
At night, he hugs Seokmin tight to his chest while they tangle their legs together, Nabi sleeping somewhere by their feet. Gets to feel Seokmin’s heart beating through his back and the way their breathing starts to sync up, the two of them finally settling together after a long day, like puzzle pieces finally slotting into place again. Jihoon presses his forehead against the back of Seokmin’s neck, and Seokmin rubs the back of Jihoon’s hand with his thumb. It’s soft and comfortable, quietly intimate.  
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says a little later, after he’s turned off the lamp on their nightstand and found his place in Jihoon’s arms again. Jihoon quietly hums in response, eyes heavy and mind quiet, heart beating softly in his chest. “Good night,” Seokmin says. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you too,” Jihoon says softly, lips pressed to the wispy hairs at the back of Seokmin’s neck. They fall asleep like that, as totally wrapped up in each other as they always have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to think Nabi is norwich terrier because when i read the description for that dog, it said "a big dog in a little package" and i thought a dog like that and Jihoon would really understand each other.
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/lyricistjihoon) !


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